Love Letters
by klscastle
Summary: Episode:Undead Again, Chapter 11 posted now. Each Chapter is a Synopsis taken from either Rick's or Kate's personal journals. This one is from Rick's perspective and was written at the request of hanaah70! Zombies anyone? LOL
1. Chapter 1 PILOT RICK

**Love Letters to Kate**

_**Disclaimer:**____ Beckett and Castle are not mine and this is just a hobby, pastime, diversion, addiction, and obsession. Wow, it doesn't really look all that healthy in print does it!_

_**Author's Notes:**____ Here's what I envision happening with this… Rick's a writer, so I don't think it's that far-fetched to believe he keeps a journal. I will attempt to get inside his head, through his writing, as he slowly falls in love with Kate. This will be a series of his journal entries from when Rick first meets Kate at the beginning of the show, one episode at a time, which will eventually turn into "Love Letters to Kate". If anyone has anything they'd like to see show up, just PM me. I would love a review to hear your thoughts and if you liked it! Thanks for taking the time to read! Karen_

**Chapter 1, Flowers for your Grave **

**March 9, 2009 **

It's been months, but I'm finally inspired to write again. Thank God, because Gina's been up my ass with threats about my advance and my next book deadline and she's giving me grief for killing off Derek Storm. She's not the only one either. There's been a backlash. Everyone thinks I'm nuts for doing it, but screw 'em – it's my character! I can do whatever the hell I want with him. I took the character as far as I could and it was getting old, stale, predictable. It wasn't fun anymore.

But things are turning around. I met the most interesting girl, who'd kick the shit out of me for calling her that. Actually, she's all woman - beautiful, smart, savvyand her name's Kate Beckett. She's an absolutely stunning, hard-nosed, bossy, by the books NYC Police Detective, which is why everything she thinks I embody, annoys her no end. She's practically the Anti-Castle. We're complete opposites and I can't remember the last time I had this much fun.

She was the detective in charge of the investigation on the Alison Tisdale murder case and she asked for my assistance. Ok, so maybe that's a stretch. At first, she pretty much demanded my help and then later I gave her no choice because I wouldn't go away, but the fact is, it turned out she and her team needed my insight. I followed them around and offered my thoughts on the case. I notice things about people that others don't. I'm a very useful engine.

It was a copy-cat murder straight from my book Death of a Prom Queen. I should have been flattered but I really wasn't. The fact is it made me sick. It's not even one of my better books. Beckett, obviously a closet fan girl, although she'd never admit it, made the connection and brought me in. Anyway, it was straight from my book except for some glaring differences, which I was instrumental in pointing out.

I thought things were going rather well until Beckett arrested me for obstruction of justice. She really needs to work on her sense of humor. I later proved they had the wrong guy.

I even got to run after and knock out the bad guy - right after I un-handcuffed myself from the car. But I digress… it felt amazing to help break that case and to feel…useful, valuable again.

Turns out, the killer, Jonathan Tisdale, wasn't that good of a copy-cat after all and made some stupid mistakes. He killed three innocent people in his quest for money and revenge on his dying father. The bastard killed his own sister and then two other innocent people just to cover his tracks - greed and revenge… how cliché, and simple to solve really.

She didn't think I'd be useful at first but I proved her wrong, not that it matters much what she thinks of me. I really couldn't care less. I could see she wasn't taking me seriously from the start, none of them did, but by the end of the case I had them singing a different tune. There was no way she could deny I had helped.

She's different, this Kate Beckett. She doesn't take any of my shit. This is somehow annoying and appealing all at once. We've got a crazy little repartee thing going on and I get an adrenaline rush just talking to her. She's fascinating and a real looker, so that's probably all it is. Unlike most of the women I come into contact with, she is seemingly not dazzled by my good looks, charm and quick wit, and her demeanor screams loathing of every fiber of my very being. But things are not always as they appear.

Lucky for my ego, her gorgeous green, sometimes brown, eyes tell me otherwise so I don't buy for a minute she hates me as much as she'd like to, although, it's probably a safe bet she won't be asking me to sign her chest anytime soon. Too bad, because it's really quite something, as is the rest of her. She knows she's hot, she works it, it radiates from her…

Kate Beckett. Generating all that kick-ass heat one minute, and then the next, so uptight, serious, and straight-laced, that she hardly cracks a smile. Ah, but when she does… it lights up the room. She's an enigma that's what she is. There's more to her than meets the eye, and some pretty deep back story, I can feel it. I know people.

Unfortunately, something dark and horrible happened to this woman.

Whatever it was… it was devastating and it's been eating away at her ever since. She's way too young to be that sad. It's all right there in her body language, her attitude and those eyes that give her away. She lost someone close to her. Her mother, I think. It wasn't hard to deduce. I nailed it in one. When I brought it up she froze like a deer in headlights.

It was a verbal attack on my part and not one of my finest moments I admit. I was a bit of a douche and I felt terrible immediately afterwards, still do, but it was too late to take back, it was already out there. I do know I don't ever want to be responsible for putting that look on her face again.

I'm not normally so callous, but she's got an uncanny ability to push my buttons. It's a quality she shares with my ex-wives, although that's where the comparison ends. She's no twinkie, and there's this softness about her, unlike Gina, that's hard to describe. I can't put it into words, yet, but she's… quite a character.

At the end of the case, I asked her out but she turned me down flat. I think my reputation proceeded me, and not in a good way. Don't believe everything you read Kate. There's a lot of fiction out there. Then she teased me with the "You've no idea" thing in my ear before she sauntered away. I do love a challenge …

_Later that night…_

I called in a favor from my buddy the Mayor just now. I told him I know exactly what my next book's going to be about. The lead character's name is Nikki Heat and she's based, not so loosely, on one Detective Kate Beckett, the sexy, hard as nails cop from the 12th Precinct. And it's going to be totally awesome! The Mayor's maybe more excited about it than I am.

He granted me permission to follow her and her boys around on cases all in the name of research. How cool is that?

Man, she's going to be so pissed. And I can't help it, but for some strange reason this amuses me immensely.

Besides, she'll get over it, it won't be so bad and she's really got no choice. I need the research and it's her own damn fault she inspired me. She'll finally get to have some fun for a change – Castle style - and maybe I'll even toss a little extra charm her way and win her over, not that I need to. I should probably start by wiping the shit-eating grin off my face before I see her tomorrow so she doesn't do it for me.

Nikki Heat. It's going to be great!

Who knows… maybe we can help each other.

**A/N:** So, from where I sit, re-watching the DVD's again from the start a dozen times over, I'm amazed at the transformation Rick's made. When they first met he was fairly smug, self-centered and immature with no clear direction. I don't blame Kate for not falling into bed with him! And I never thought I'd say that. All I remembered before my trip down memory lane was being charmed by him, the devil! Anyway, I would love it if you could take a minute to review and I hope you liked it!


	2. Chapter 2 PILOT KATE

Love Letters to Kate

Disclaimer: Beckett and Castle are not mine and this is just a hobby, pastime, diversion, addiction, and obsession. Wow, it doesn't really look all that healthy in print does it!

Author's Notes: Ok, slight change of plans since I received a few requests for both Rick and Kate's journal entries and this intrigues me. Then again I'm easily intrigued so it might pass. Anyhow, I'll now attempt to get inside both their heads, through their journals, as they slowly fall in love with each other. Then I'm going to pull a rabbit out of a hat, because Kate's really hard for me to write, but what the hell, I'll give it a shot. I might only throw her in there once and awhile to liven things up depending on how well this chapter is received. Once again, thanks for taking the time to read and I would be grateful for a review! Karen

On to the story… Kate's journal entry set a couple days after they first meet.

Chapter 1, Flowers for your Grave

March 12, 2009

I've been transported to an alternate universe. It's the only explanation.

Hauled, kicking and screaming, against my will, to a faraway land where it's perfectly acceptable, encouraged even, for bored millionaire playboys to interfere with legitimate homicide investigations. I'm the lone, sane intruder in this new world and everyone around me has lost their mind.

Enter Richard Castle, prominent author, friend to the stars, beloved by all - mostly himself, or as I like to refer to him - the sneaky, manipulative, immature, man-child and general pain in the ass, I've been forced to babysit while he pretends to do "research" for a book he's writing. Why is it I'm the only one who can see this is just a big game to him?

This so called "book" is to be based on me no less, the most private, low-profile person imaginable. Would it have killed him to ask my permission first? From the obnoxious look he was sporting when Roy informed me he'd be allowed to trail me for as long as he deemed necessary, it was clear Castle felt I should be flattered and should be thanking him.

Maybe he's right. Maybe, in another time and place, or if circumstances were different he'd be right and I would be flattered, but those are some big "what if's" and I don't know why, but no matter how hard I try to keep my composure around him, he still manages to get a rise out of me, so I'll be keeping the platitudes to a minimum.

I'm not sure which was more offensive, the twinkle in his eyes or the attitude, but I was certain he found my predicament amusing, so instead of the thanks I'm sure he was expecting, I fantasized about strangling him instead. Who does he think he is, this man with the larger than life personality, looming in the doorway as if he owned the place, blocking my escape, knowing I was cornered with nowhere to run.

He's so damn lucky I'm a professional, that my boss was in the room and that my gun was at my desk.

What burns me the most is I had absolutely no say in this. No one bothered to ask for my opinion, which I voiced later anyway damnit, before they signed off on this nonsense and then I was told to lighten up and accept it because Castle's pal, the mayor, thinks it's a great idea. The freaking mayor! I am _so_ not voting for that man in the next election.

I can't believe Roy bought into this crap. He should know better. He's supposed to be a grown up. How anyone in their right mind thinks putting an unarmed, untrained civilian out in the field hunting murderers is a good idea is beyond me, and waiver or not, now I'm responsible for covering his ass on top of my own job, as if it weren't hard enough already.

And please…research, my ass! I can only imagine how many other women he's "researched". He may believe he's got the greatest pick up line ever, but I've heard a lot of them and I can handle his type so I'm not buying it for a minute. While it's true he's not exactly hard on the eyes, and his are a rather nice shade of blue, did he honestly think that I would fall for that line then jump straight into bed with him? Do I look like one of his bimbettes? I can assure you, there will be no _debriefings _any time soon.

What Mr. Charming really wants is to get in my pants plain and simple and book or no book, I'm thinking if I shoot him now, I could probably get all the paperwork done and out of the way in time to still enjoy the weekend.

I'm the only one who seems concerned his presence will be a distraction or that it might negatively affect our work. He's got everyone eating from the palm of his hand and completely snowed.

Speaking of our little gang - they think this whole thing is hilarious.

I know Roy's been stifling his laughs for my benefit and even Lanie, the turncoat, is so impressed by Castle, she keeps texting me new lipstick color choices. As for my boys…they're enjoying the free show, amused by our constant head-butting. Esposito thinks it's better than shark week and it's one big Bromance Central here at the 12th…just what I needed, more testosterone.

As annoying as Castle is, I have to admit it's really all my fault for pulling him on to the case in the first place, however, it was supposed to be temporary. Who knew I wouldn't be able to get rid of him?

The Alison Tisdale murder was a copy cat, straight from one of Castle's books and since I'm apparently the only who can read on our team, I recognized the similarities and asked for Castle's help. After turning down the delightful opportunity for him to sign my chest, I suggested he come back to the precinct so we could ask him a couple of questions about his book as they related to our case.

I felt like I already knew him since I'd read all his books and had seen some of the stories written about him in the papers, especially page six, but I still took my time reading the official file we had on him. He was quite proud of the black marks and questionable incidences that appeared on his record, admired his own bad-boy reputation, then went on to accuse me of being a FanGirl and hit on me while I was in the middle of asking him serious questions about the investigation. I was shocked our meager interrogation room could accommodate his enormous ego.

There wasn't anything too serious in the file – basically juvenile frat boy stuff, which I normally would chalk-up to signs of a misspent youth, except he was way past frat boy age when he committed some of them and he still thought they were no big deal and funny as hell. He got the charges dropped every time. What a surprise. He's used to getting his way, throws his money around and has friends in high places to get him out of trouble. I never would have guessed.

It kills me to say this, but he's not without his attributes; he turned out to not to be bad at reading people for the most part, he's smart, observant, has decent instincts, and was able to point out several important discrepancies between his book and the murder which ultimately led us to solve the case. Unbelievably true also is that he has a lovely daughter and mother that both live with him. This is a fact that throws me.

That being said, he's a know-it-all, impulsive, a loose cannon, allergic to orders, rules and authority of any kind, and he doesn't take anything seriously.

He also has no respect for my personal boundaries. He'd better watch himself because his assumptions regarding my past and family was hitting below the belt. He caught me off guard and I let him get away with it once, but I won't allow it again.

Richard Freaking Castle…I'd never admit this to his face in a million years, but since I know he'll never read this, I can say it here…he was right, I am a Fan Girl. He's an amazing writer, one of my favorites, and the part of me that's absorbed every one of his books over the years faster than a pre-menstrual, salty big bag of chips, is completely floored that he'd consider writing about me, that I could inspire him. After all, he's a serious author whose books are read by millions, yet he chose me. I mean, wow.

Then I met him. Hello, reality check.

They say you can't judge a book by its cover, I guess the same is true for an author and his books. He's nothing like I imagined he would be and we couldn't possibly be more different if we tried.

Three long days later, I can honestly say I'd rather pull my eyelashes out one by one, than admit to him that I'm possibly one of his biggest fans.

He has no respect for what we do here...

Innocent people are murdered by psychopaths every day and we're expected to put our lives on the line, find the killers, bring justice to the families and get the bad guys off the streets. It's a nasty, serious business and there's no time for fun with homicidal maniacs on the loose. He acts like he's been given a season pass to Disneyland. To Castle, the city's one big playground, murder's a game, the precinct's his tree house and Esposito and Ryan are his new "peeps".

One thing's for sure, he's not boring. In the last three days alone, I've arrested his ass for obstruction of justice, handcuffed him to my car, from which he escaped, and saved him from getting shot after he chased down an armed murderer while wearing only one shoe.

I just pray this whole thing's temporary, until he gets bored playing cops and robbers or distracted by something shiny and moves on. I mean, when you think about it, what kind of nut kills off the main character in a best-selling series of novels? He's obviously got a short attention span so it's just a matter of time. I can be patient.

Until then, I'll just have to grin and bear it, keep things strictly-business and keep reminding him who's in charge. If he wants to stick around he'll have to concede I'm the one calling the shots and he'll have no choice but to clean up his act.

It's going to be hell but I can get through this.

Who knows… maybe I won't even have to shoot him.

A/N: So, how'd I do? I would love to hear from you – your reviews keep me going…you've no idea. Speaking of going, I'm off to watch episode two a couple dozen times then off to write Rick's entry for the next chapter. Hit that button people and I hope you enjoyed the chapter!


	3. Chapter 3 NANNY MCDEAD RICK

_**Love Letters **_

_**Chapter 3, Nanny McDead, Rick's journal**_

_**Disclaimer:**__ Beckett and Castle are not mine and this is just a hobby, pastime, diversion, addiction, and obsession. Wow! It doesn't really look all that healthy in print does it?_

_**Author's Notes:**__ Thanks to all of you reading, especially you Clickers out there that like to hit the little blue button at the bottom of the page to follow, favorite & review. You guys keep me writing! I'm continuing with both Rick and Kate's journals and changing the name of the series to plain old Love Letters. Here's the next one, Chapter 3, Rick's take on Nanny McDead, Episode 2. I hope you enjoy the story. Karen _

_**March 18, 2009 **_

_Today I finished up my second case working with the detectives of the 12__th__ which I would have missed entirely no doubt, if it hadn't been for Roy calling me to inform me of the new murder. I do believe Beckett actually tried to ditch me. Silly misguided detective…_

_Ah, the beginnings of a relationship when everything is still so fresh and new. Guess my reputation hasn't entirely preceded me since she thought she could get away with it. I'm like a dog with a bone, and Fido's got a new book to write so it's all I can think about these days. Go on, try and run…I will find you. I've got work to do._

_My mission for this case had been two-fold, my assignment critical. The first part was character development. I would attempt, if she'd let me, to delve deep into the mind of one Detective Katherine Beckett, aka Nikki Heat, crime-fighter extraordinaire and heroine of my next best-selling novel Heat Wave, as she fearlessly took names and kicked ass in the pursuit of justice on the dark and harrowed streets of New York City. _

_Second, I had to complete a shit-load of ridiculously boring waiver paperwork with their lawyer or Beckett refused to let me shadow her. Thank god my own lawyer didn't see what I agreed to since she'd have me declared insane. But anyway, where was I? _

_It was imperative I get this right. Nailing Beckett could make or break my story. Wait, that came out way dirtier than I meant it to. Let's start again. _

_I would get to know my muse better by conducting an in-depth character analysis; learn what makes her tick, motivates her, and understand her thought process. With my keen eye for detail, a writer's secret weapon, I would observe her every mannerism and hopefully get in her head. _

_What little I do know about her is she's suspicious by nature, serious, professional, smart, resilient, and she likes to keep things close to the vest. She'll only tell you what she wants you to know._

_This makes my job harder than first anticipated and it's going to take longer to finish my analysis. It's a good thing I like a challenge and have some free time on my hands. It's a kick shadowing her, I mean them, so it's not like I'm not complaining. _

_Beckett, however, may have a different take on the subject. She doesn't like me very much although I'm not quite sure why. It's possible she finds me slightly annoying, bothersome and doesn't really believe I'm writing a book about her so I've been making sure she sees me taking notes and I'm asking a lot of valid questions. I plan to show her I'm a professional. Unfortunately, my increased participation seems to be driving her nuts and I believe at this point she is just barely tolerating me._

_The silver lining is her reaction to said participation amuses me and she's cute when she's annoyed so I admit, I may do it purposely now and again, however most of the time stuff flies out of my mouth without warning. Apparently, my edit button is in the shop for repairs. _

_Regardless, my intentions are pure, well as pure as they can be, since this is me I'm talking about, and I'm truly shadowing her for research purposes. I take my job seriously too and for this book to be a success I will need to see her at work. The fact that she's hot as hell, I mean cute, is not my fault and the quicker she accepts I'm not going anywhere until my research is done – the faster she'll be rid of me. Ditching me will not work. _

_After I finished signing my life away with the lawyer I headed out to the crime scene and made friends with the building's doorman, a fan who recognized me and let me in. I lay in wait for my prey just outside the elevator doors so there was no way in hell she would miss me when she got off on the 12__th__ floor. _

_Judging from her surprise when the elevator doors opened, I'd made my point. She was less than pleased at my arrival but I conveyed my own displeasure at her pitiful attempt to lose me. Ding, ding. Round-one…Rick Castle._

_Still looking to get rid of me, she tried to find out how much longer I'd be shadowing her. Instead of the closure I'm so sure she was so hoping for, I reminded her she was my "inspiration", in more ways than one, and surprisingly enough this wasn't one of the times during the case where she threatened me. I might be growing on her. _

_This case had all the makings of a bad daytime soap opera plot. There's a whole lot of secret shit going down in that building complex and it's possible not a soul in the entire place was actually having sex with the person they were supposed to be having sex with. Everyone was cheating on everyone and it was very hard to keep up._

_The victim, Sara Manning was discovered stuffed in a dryer in the basement laundry room. She'd been the nanny for the Petersons who lived on the 12__th__ floor. I knew right away Mr. Peterson was hiding something even though both he and his wife supplied alibis. _

_The victim had a boyfriend (there's always a boyfriend, just like I'd told Beckett) however they'd broken up a few months back. I suspected Peterson and Sara might have been having an affair. Beckett kept the interview brief – too brief for my liking, and when I asked her why she hadn't questioned him further she said it was because she'd rather investigate things herself first then later re-question the suspects again with more specific questions. She knew he was lying. Smart, clever and she has good time management skills, my Beckett. I like how her mind works. I'll need to remember she's never going to give anything away in front of a suspect. _

_After we left, Beckett said she'd be the one to inform the victim's family. I'd always assumed someone else got sent to do the dirty work. This has to be the worst part of the job, but after seeing how empathetic she was later in the case I agree she's probably the best choice. _

_Still I felt bad she had that resting on her shoulders on top of trying to solve the case. I give her a lot of credit. Beckett's tough but she's also haunted. The loss of a parent would be traumatic for anyone, but there's obviously more to her story. You can see it on her face and hear it in her voice when she talks to the victim's friends and families._

_Back at the precinct I did what I do best and weaved a little tale which kept them all riveted. It was about the mystery guy in apartment 8B who'd been stalking our victim. He never thought he'd ever have a girl like Sara and we all know what that's like…I said, looking pointedly at Beckett. This earned me both an eye roll and slight blush but no witty banter. Oh well, maybe next time. By the time my tale was told they were looking into each and every person that lived in that building. Even Beckett thought I might be on to something. _

_Unfortunately, although it made a good story, my theory was completely off track which turned out to be a recurring pattern during practically this entire case. Beckett may be on to something with her "shut up and listen" policy after all. Who knew?_

_I told Alexis and Mother about the case and Mother spilled to Alexis that I had a series of nannies when I was a kid and Alexis wanted to know why she never had one. _

_Over my dead body…our memories are quite different. Mother believes the women she left me with were highly qualified and I understand she did what she needed to do at the time, but there was no way in hell I was leaving my daughter with strangers if I could avoid it, especially a series of middle-aged, alcoholic women that would ignore her so they could watch their soaps. _

_So yeah, I was Mr. Mom with Alexis and did the best I could. She turned out ok, this kid of mine, which is amazing considering the gene pool. But that's a rant for another day. I prefer to believe it's a miracle she's such a great kid. _

_Beckett was ordered to call me (I love Roy) and instructed me to meet her at Lanie's lab to go over the autopsy findings. I could tell she was thrilled at the thought of spending more time with me. _

_One little comment about the scratch marks on the goggles she gave me to wear and I got my head bit off. She's under the misconception I'm a rich snob. I wasn't criticizing the department I just believe they deserve to have the tools they need to do their jobs. _

_Beckett must have given Lanie an earful about me too because Lanie wasn't as receptive to my presence as she was when we first met. Lanie's a beauty too, and a Beckett clone in some ways; a no-nonsense woman, smart, professional, serious and also easily immune to my charm. I can visualize my mojo sitting in a jar, on the shelf next to my edit button. I really miss my mojo. At least Roy and the boys love me. _

_Lanie determined our victim died from head trauma after being hit on the head by a bottle of bleach, then falling and banging her head on the edge of a table. Our vic also had sex right before the murder which meant she probably knew her killer. _

_I immediately suspected the boyfriend, which would be wrong. The best part of our meeting with Lanie was I got to tease Beckett that she didn't know what sex was. Have I mentioned these ladies don't appreciate my fine-tuned sense of humor?_

_The next day before we interviewed the boyfriend Beckett laid down the law. Apparently I was there by invitation only and was expected to remain silent. It's never worked before, but hey I'm open to new possibilities. Nope, still didn't work. _

_Here's when I had an epiphany. Beckett can lie – and lie well. I watched her do it convincingly and with a straight face. She doesn't blink. This surprises me and usually not much does. She convinced the boyfriend not to leave town when she didn't even have probable cause. She's got a great poker face. It was awesome! _

_The boyfriend was a dead end but he gave us a lead on one of Sara's friends, another nanny, Chloe Richardson. _

_We went to the playground to find Chloe and I got my very first compliment from Beckett. Will wonders ever cease? She was impressed by the Mr. Mom role I had with Alexis when she was little and thought it was kind of nice. "Kind of nice"…it's not much, but I'm a starving man so I'll take it. _

_I can't believe she's never been married before. I mean, look at her. I teased her she should try it, she'd be great at it since she's both controlling and disapproving and if it didn't work out she could be like me and try it a couple of times but she claims she's the one and done type…interesting. _

_When I asked her if there were any serious candidates she froze then changed the subject. It's not easy pulling information out of this woman. It's might even be possible she's learning more about me than I am about her. I made a mental note to find out if she has a boyfriend - strictly for research purposes, of course. _

_We found Chloe, who was distraught over the loss of her friend. Beckett's pretty good at comforting people and told the girl she knew what it was like to lose someone. Guess I was right, when I called her out on that during our first case. Chloe implied the victim was having an affair with Mr. Peterson which was bad for Mrs. Peterson but good for the case since it gave him motive. _

_Beckett suspected the guy from the start but she gave nothing away. I would kill for her poker face. I invited her to play with my poker group but she showed no interest, saying it would be too rich for her blood. I suggested strip poker but once again my advances were shot down. She said she prefers mystery to horror, ouch. That stung. I'm chalking it up to us still being in the "getting to know you stage". _

_We went back to the office to see if the boys had come up with any leads. I like these guys. They're easy to get along with and the male bonding thing's kind of nice. I can kid with them and they don't glare at me. _

_I miss out on that stuck in a room writing all the time. Unlike Beckett, they don't seem to hate my hanging around and it appears they find me mildly amusing. One little crack about Beckett being grumpy when she doesn't have a suspect and she's threatening to kick me out again. I wonder why she doesn't seem to have a problem with the boys teasing her. They seem to be able to get away with it. _

_Our new suspect was Mrs. Peterson who knew her low-life husband was having an affair, plus her first alibi was crap. Turns out she was really at her lawyer's office that day working on serving him the divorce papers._

_With no other leads coming in I took it upon myself to help speed things up a bit and borrowed, ok lifted, the DVD of the elevator rides our victim took. I noticed there was a time difference which meant the victim hadn't come down from the 12th floor but the 15th floor. Mother thinks I should stop stealing things from the police but look how well it turned out._

_The next day was show and tell. I made Beckett take an unnecessary ride in the elevator to prove my point and so we could spend some quality time together in close quarters. She does smell good. The seventy-seven year old man who thought she was propositioning him must have thought so too. Oops, right floor, wrong apartment. That was some funny shit. _

_We find out Chloe works for the Harris family who just happen to reside on the 15__th__ floor. The husband, Eon Harris, lies and says he doesn't remember if he saw Sara or not that day. I snooped around, found condoms in the bathroom and dialed the victim's cell phone number and then we found the victim's cell phone under the Harris' bed proving Sara was in the apartment. We figure Harris is our guy since he's a lying cheating, scumbag - just the type to have committed murder so we brought him down to the station where his lawyer showed up before we had enough evidence to hold him. _

_We went to Chloe's house with some additional questions where I noticed Chloe's photo hanging on the wall with Mrs. Harris cut out of the picture. Chloe's also been having an affair with Harris. This guys sleeping with everyone. The kid's unhinged and has been our killer all along. We think she's going after Eon Harris so we head out to find her. _

_Beckett tells me to wait outside the building while they arrest Chloe but I remind her of the signed waiver so there's no reason I can't go in too. She makes me promise to accompany and observe per the waiver, not participate and annoy. She can be a real buzz kill._

_We find Eon Harris lying on the floor with stab wounds. Chloe had snuck in the apartment and stabbed Eon Harris while Mrs. Harris was giving the kid a bath. _

_The doorman calls and tells us there's a girl in the laundry room with a knife so we go down to the laundry room to check it out. _

_Beckett instructs me to stand outside the laundry room door while she goes in to talk to a distraught, knife-wielding Chloe. This is a game we keep playing. I waited thirty seconds before I went in anyway and then Beckett threatened to shoot me again. The kid was sitting on the washing machine, cutting herself with a knife and told Beckett to just shoot her. Now we have a potential suicide. _

_Beckett was amazing. She got Chloe to talk and confess. Chloe admitted to being pregnant with Eon Harris' baby, and Beckett promised her we'd get her the help she needs. Chloe confessed to having hit Sara with the bottle of bleach but then Sara fell, smacked her head and died. In a panic Chloe stuffed her in the dryer and took off. _

_The kid had lost it when she found out Harris had been sleeping with Sara and had come down to the laundry room to tell Sara to stop because Harris and Chloe were in love. Poor disillusioned girl._

_Beckett got her to drop the knife and she kicked it out of the way. The kid was devastated, obviously not right in the head, pregnant and now she gets arrested. We watched her be taken into the patrol car while Harris got brought out on a stretcher. He'll be fine but Chloe won't. This whole case is a tragedy._

_What I learned about Beckett…the way she talked to that kid…that comes from personal experience. Some moron broke her heart. Pity the fool. Look what he's missing out on. The rest of my character development is going to take awhile. A fact I can live with._

_Tonight, when Alexis asked me if I was surprised about the actual killer I told her she surprises me all the time. And she does. I'm a lucky guy. I have no idea how the hell my daughter turned out so well._

_This case sure brought back tons of memories. I stared at the photo of Alexis and me walking to the playground for hours and marveled at how fast the time has gone by. No regrets. And no nanny for my Alexis – it was just the two of us - me and my best girl._

_All in all, I consider the case a rousing success since I wasn't shot at, injured or killed, and to top it off, Beckett only threatened my life twice. I am nothing, if not hopeful._

_The End_

_**A/N:**__ Click and review if you have a minute. I'd really appreciate any feedback you might have. What did you think? Beckett's up next. Thanks, Karen _


	4. Chapter 4 NANNY MCDEAD KATE

_**Love Letters **_

_**Chapter 4, Nanny McDead, Kate's journal**_

_**Disclaimer:**__ Beckett and Castle are not mine and this is just a hobby, pastime, diversion, addiction, and obsession. Wow! It doesn't really look all that healthy in print does it?_

_**Author's Notes: **__Thanks to those reading, and special thanks to the clickers, you know who you are, that follow, favorite & review - quite the motivator, that blue button. I'm thinking of having one installed at work. Here's the next chapter, # 4, Kate's take on Nanny McDead, Episode 2. I hope you enjoy the story and take a minute to review at the end. Karen _

_**March 18, 2009 **_

The minute I got home tonight I poured myself a big glass of wine and took a nice long bubble-bath. Neither helped my mood in the least and to say I'm happy this case is over would be a vast understatement.

I'd thought I'd seen everything in my line of work, but I was wrong. Our most recent victim was found unceremoniously stuffed in a dryer. This was new. Not new - Rick Castle, writer-monkey, continuing to follow me around like a puppy and generally driving me nuts while he conducts research for his next book. To my dismay, and judging from the notes he's been taking, it appears there's really going to be a book. This is a fact I'm still trying to come to terms with.

To top it off, he's impulsively signed a ridiculous waiver so the powers-that-be have gone and granted him unlimited access to our cases and me. I've been ordered to keep him informed of all updates. Imagine my delight. I still can't believe he signed off on a waiver without having his lawyer look it over. He must have a death wish.

So now the man's everywhere I am, despite my thwarted attempts at ditching his sorry ass. He's gleefully aware I've been ordered to inform him of all leads in the case and he's enjoying every minute of my torture. He thinks he's so smart, but alas my disillusioned friend, I am smarter. No one ever said I had to make it easy for him. I can't wait until I have to call and wake him up at three am because we got a hit on something.

Why can't he just use his imagination and make up a story like other writers do? I've seen him in action - he's quite the storyteller. Surely he could come up with something on his own. Meanwhile, I'm stuck under the proverbial microscope and I have a new-found respect for lab rats.

Throughout the case he was watching me like a hawk and studying my every move, almost like he was trying to memorize me. It was very unsettling. He vaguely reminded me of that little dog on TV, Eddie, who always stared at Frasier and freaked him out. I could actually feel him trying to suck my brain. Sorry buddy, but this brain, and everywhere else on my body for that matter, is by invitation only.

I consider it all rather intrusive. He asked me some pretty personal questions he had no right to ask, for example, he wanted to know if I have a boyfriend or not. How is this relevant? I'm starting to get a little worried about what he plans to put in this book of his. I've got to be more careful. From now on my personal life is off limits and he's on a need to know basis.

And I'm not ignorant to the penetrating looks he's been giving me, which are not all directed above the neck, I might add. I'm not blind, but I'm supposed to be concentrating on the case and solving a murder, not worrying about his note taking or flirtatious ogling. The job is my first priority, not his book and he's a distraction.

I need to be able to focus and not worry about what he's up to. Like when I was talking Chloe down off the ledge and I could feel Castle hanging on my every word. It's hard to do your job when you know someone is taking notes on how well you do it.

I could tell from the start this was not going to be our typical case and I was right. It began with Esposito and Ryan surrounded by a dead body, arguing about laundry room etiquette, followed by an incident I'd rather not talk about, which included a seventy-seven year old man who wrongly thought I was propositioning him, then concluded with a stabbing, a potential suicide and not just one, but numerous lives being torn apart.

Though the mystery was solved, I'm worried justice won't be fully served. Two nannies - one gets killed while the other, a pregnant, unstable young girl goes to jail. She's ruined her life. Meanwhile the lying, cheating bastard who slept with both of them, knowing exactly what he was doing… his injuries will heal over time and he gets off scot-free.

My biggest concern is for Harris' daughter Becca and how this poor child will be affected by this mess. Sure she was in the other room when it happened, but who knows what she heard or how she's going to handle the fact that someone she knew and trusted stabbed her father. Her world's been turned upside down.

I understand the decision on what happens to the guilty parties involved is not for me to decide. This honor goes to the judicial system. I can only pray Becca gets through this.

This entire case was a product of infidelity run rampant. Lies to the left and lies to the right. No one was sleeping with the person they were supposed to be sleeping with and certainly not anyone they were married to. Doesn't anyone believe in the sanctity of marriage anymore? When I get married that's it for me. Like I told Castle, I'm a "One and Done" girl.

I don't recall how he got me to reveal this personal tidbit but I'm chalking it up to idle conversation. Ok, we were sharing. Ugh. I can see I'm going to have to re-examine my need to know policy. He confessed he'd been married a couple of times, then made marriage sound like changing socks, although I already knew this from the papers, so his admission presented no real shock value.

However, I was surprised to find he'd been a stay at home dad to his daughter when she was young. Wild, millionaire playboy…I naturally assumed he'd gone the nanny route...interesting. I'd met Alexis once and she's lovely so he must be a good father and it's obvious he adores her. You can see it on his face when talks about her. I imagined the two of them…him pushing his cute little red-headed girl on the swing, holding hands, laughing together. I couldn't help but think how nice it was she had someone her own age to play with.

It made for a very sweet picture and I thought maybe I'd been too hard on him and made too many assumptions based on his public persona. I reminded myself not to believe everything I see in the news. And while I was pondering how refreshing it was for him to enjoy being a hands-on dad, he mentioned it had made him quite the babe magnet for the single (and probably not single) moms they'd meet on the playground. Well, at least he was honest.

This case has impacted me more than I usually allow and I'm drained, tired and despite the wine and bath, I'm cranky. This may explain the literary hit I took out on Castle earlier. It's not like I think he's a horrible person. He's probably a very nice guy and his presence is not completely intolerable.

And it pains me to admit this but there are some positives to having him around. Don't get me wrong, he's still an annoying teenage boy trapped in a grown man's body, screaming to get out, but he's a clever young lad, somewhat entertaining and I have to admit he was a great help on this case. I'm almost tempted to use the phrase "instrumental in solving" and would, if I didn't think it would come back to haunt me. Not that I would tell him any of this. It's hard enough dealing with his non-existent, self-esteem issues as it is.

In an alternate universe with the proper police training, Castle might have made one hell of a detective. Although some of his theories turned out to be dead ends, he's smart, thinks on his feet, can tell when someone's lying, except for me of course, and he has an excellent eye for details.

His biggest problem is he's too impulsive and has absolutely no patience. If he really wants to think like a cop he needs to be quiet, listen and learn. Maybe then he'd understand there's a reason for the way I work. You never show your hand and you always follow the rules.

Unfortunately, no matter how many times I tell him to remain silent and listen, or stay put, he simply can't do it. Also it might be nice if he would refrain from stealing police evidence for his own private research - just a thought. Would it kill him to ask?

Lanie says he wants more from me than research and I should consider being flattered. She's under the impression I could do worse. I tried to tell her there's nothing romantic going on between Castle and me, we're entirely too different, and it's purely professional, but she rolled her eyes. She keeps pushing me to get a social life and I keep telling her it's all about work right now. Besides, he's already in a relationship. He's in love with himself.

She might be right, since he did invite me to his place to play poker. While I've got nothing against the game since I'm pretty good at it, and would beat his ass, I'm keeping my distance from him socially. I see him enough at work and I'm not going down that road again. Been there, done that. It never works out. Plus, our relationship is only temporary. He'll be gone soon enough.

He won't divulge how much longer he'll be gracing us with his presence, but I think it's because he enjoys hanging it over my head. I guess I can tolerate him a little longer.

No one tried to kill him this time and there were only a couple of times during the case I thought about shooting him myself, which is less than during our first case, so I think he might actually be growing on me. We'll see…it's also possible my wine finally took effect.

Oh, and one more thing…if the day ever comes and I do get married and have kids one thing's for certain….no nanny.

The End

**A/N:** Click and review? I could use the motivation. I only have 140 and counting more versions to go. Thanks for reading! Karen


	5. Chapter 5 Hedge Fund Homeboys Rick

_**Love Letters **_

_**Hedge Fund Homeboys, Rick's journal**_

_**Disclaimer:**__ Beckett and Castle are not mine and this is just a hobby, pastime, diversion, addiction, and obsession. Wow! It doesn't really look all that healthy in print now does it?_

_**Author's Notes: **__Here's the next chapter, Rick's take on Hedge Fund Homeboys. By the way, Rick's entries will always have more details about the case than Kate's, since he'd be keeping notes for his research. This will change, of course, as they start becoming more than "friends". Happy reading! Let me know what you think. Karen _

_**March 27, 2009 **_

I'm trying to come up with a sane argument to convince Alexis it makes perfect sense to remain under lock and key in the safety of our loft until she turns around thirty, but I've got nothing. It's been a rough couple of days.

A homicidal teen pre-meditated the murder of a close friend then framed and killed another. The crime is then unknowingly covered up by four more of their friends all under the guise of solidarity. These kids are only slightly older than my daughter.

This last case left me all tied up in knots even though we brought the killer to justice, uncovered a myriad of lies, solved the mystery and closed the case. I haven't slept in my own bed in days.

It all started a couple of days ago when I was grabbing coffee and discussing with Alexis her upcoming school trip to Washington DC. She said one of the parents was going back into rehab so a slot was open for another chaperone if I wanted to go along.

I remember back in the day when topics such as a parent going into rehab were a private matter. Not anymore, not with the internet and social media run rampant. Now news travels like lightening to those you're in sync with.

I told her I would love to accompany her on the trip, if only I wasn't trembling in fear at the thought of leaving her grandmother completely unsupervised. Mother's known for her wild parties and my liquor bills reflect this. I'm still traumatized from her last "soiree".

Moments later Beckett called to say they had another body. This time, an eighteen year-old, Donny Anderson, with a bullet wound to his chest. His body was discovered afloat a row boat in Central Park.

I met Beckett and the rest of the team in the park where they discovered the body and Lanie confirmed the boy was shot first, before his body was then dragged to the boat. Beckett sent officers out to canvas the area for traces of blood. With so little to go on, it was critical to find the exact location where the murder took place.

Beckett broke the bad news to Donny's parents and we learned that although his father lost his high paying job and money had been tight, Donny had been allowed to continue at Redding Prep School on a scholarship because of his grades and potential. I can't even begin to imagine what his parents are going through right now and pray I never have to.

We interviewed the headmaster, and then Donny's friends on campus and it was ridiculous how they all covered for one another. They refused to break their self-imposed pact of silence until Beckett hit them hard with her poker face and dramatic skills (think early, Meryl Streep). She got them to at least admit they were with Donny the day he was killed, but they said they all left him around five pm.

They obviously knew more than they were letting on, but I'm beginning to understand how Beckett works so I didn't push it. I knew she was going to gather more information first before she hauled them each in for more questioning.

She was on the phone checking in with the guys to see if they had pin-pointed the crime scene when I innocently pressed myself up against her so I could listen in on the call from other side of her phone. Beckett's really a lot stronger than she looks and my ear still hurts from where she grabbed me. She's got quite a grip. It's not my fault I'm curious by nature and slightly impatient. She should really consider using the speaker-phone feature.

We met Ryan back at the park where they had discovered the exact location of the shooting and I pointed out the large pool of blood found next to the park bench indicated our victim must have stayed where he was shot for a long while before someone later came back and dragged his body over to the boat.

I couldn't understand why someone would want to move the body. Was a drug dealer smart enough to try and cover his tracks by moving it away from a known spot for drug deals? Both Esposito and Ryan's experience argued no. So, if the dealer didn't move the body – then who did?

The guys brought in the 911 caller who said she saw a young white male flee the area after the shot rang out. She picked out our dealer, Kent Scoville, from his mug shot and we brought him in for questioning. Judging from his record, it looked like he was our guy, except he had no known history of weapons possession.

Roy and I looked on in awe, as Beckett tricked the little worm into not only confessing he was in the park the night before, but he admitted he both knew and saw our victim. He claimed he didn't kill Donny, but he appeared guilty as sin, so at Roy's insistence he's held overnight for further questioning.

I watched over Alexis that night, falling asleep in the chair by her bed, afraid to let her out of my sight and had a heart to heart with her when she woke up the next morning. I don't want to be one of those parents that find out too late they ignored all the signs. I want my little girl to know she can come to me with anything no matter how awful it might be.

Alexis is a great kid, but the world's a crazy place and I worry about her trusting nature. And although I know my daughter, when it came right down to it, how well did I really know the kids she hung out with?

What happened to Donny isn't going to happen to my kid if I can help it, but I'll need to start paying closer attention. Alexis said there was an unspoken code between her friends too, and assured me they would bail her out if she was ever in any trouble.

We interviewed Donny's friends as a group again, but in the privacy of their auditorium. Beckett got them to confess they were with Donny when he was shot. They had lied earlier. They said Donny was hard up for cash so he took to selling drugs. His dealer showed up at the park and pressed him for two-hundred dollars on the spot, and when Donny wouldn't pay up, the guy shot him. They witnessed the shooting. We brought Romy into the precinct and she picked Scoville out of a line-up and said he was the shooter. That's when it hit me.

Why didn't Donny's friends just pay off the drug dealer? They all came from money. Certainly, they could have come up with the cash. It didn't add up, which is why I rushed out to the precinct to discuss it with Beckett. For once it didn't take long for me to convince her I had a point and we went to question Scoville further.

I love watching Beckett interrogate suspects. It's pure genius. She's something else when she gets going - real smooth, and they never see it coming, a gift which will most definitely be reflected in the pages of my book. To tell you the truth it makes me a little uneasy knowing she'll probably test out her skills on me someday, if she hasn't already. I hope I don't ever have to try and hide something important from her because she's relentless. I'm not sure how she manages to keep a straight face and I'm rethinking letting her in on my poker game.

Scoville's got himself a greasy lawyer now, named Yankman, but Beckett still managed to get him to give up more info. He confirmed the other kids were also there that night and although Donnie may have been dealing drugs through him regularly, so did each of the other kids, but they did it just for kicks. It was hard not to believe Scoville when he so accurately described them to us. He maintained his innocence and I started to believe him. It was looking more and more like one of Donny's friends was responsible for the murder.

Roy and the Mayor were both satisfied we had our guy in custody and expected us to wrap the case up tight, but I argued there was more to the story. Beckett saw it too.

We went to question Romy, one of the two girls present at the shooting, in the presence of her parents. Beckett got her to confess to a game of Russian roulette gone horribly wrong when their friend Max Heller pulled the trigger of what they all thought was an empty gun. The girl claimed Max didn't know there was a bullet left in the chamber from when they'd all used the gun for target practice during a prior trip to the Hamptons. She said the shooting was an accident and Max was devastated about what had happened.

We went to Max's house to arrest him but he wasn't there and his mother hadn't seen him. She called him on his cell, but he didn't answer. Then Beckett got a call with news that Max was found dead of an apparent suicide, which we presumed was driven by grief over shooting one of his best friends.

Max was found with a gunshot wound to the head from a .38, the same type of gun that killed Donny and this case was getting bleaker by the minute.

I didn't get much sleep that night either, once again nodding off in a chair. I was awakened to a weepy Alexis confessing her sins. There I was with my heart racing, on the verge of a panic attack, readying myself for the worst - drugs, alcohol, sex… you know, things I used to do, and she's harboring guilt over jumping a turn-style. She nearly gave me a heart attack and I suddenly felt much closer to forty than I'd care to admit.

Then in a classic Alexis move, she self-grounds herself when I won't. At least she put off the punishment until after her school trip. She's smart and has a good head on her shoulders, but I'm not so deluded to believe it will always be this easy. She's only a couple of years younger than those kids playing Russian roulette in the park. And it may sound selfish on my part, but her guilty conscience may save us both.

I wasn't fully convinced Max, who was racked with guilt, would have the mindset to come back and move Donny's body. It was too calculated, and not something you do if you're feeling exceptionally guilty.

We met with Lanie at the morgue for the autopsy results and she informed us Max's death wasn't a suicide, however she did believe it was meant to look like one. Max had a blood alcohol level of .28 and from the tell-tale abrasions found on his fingers she determined he was most likely unconscious when someone else helped him pull the trigger. Lanie is simply amazing. And now we have two murders to solve.

We interviewed Spencer, another teen also present at the shooting and asked him where he and Brandon were last night when Max "killed himself". Spencer said he was at his father's club and Brandon had been with him. We certain he's lying and covering for Brandon.

We questioned Brandon again but he claimed he was with Spencer when Max died so he had an alibi. Then he turned over his cell phone to us which he said had synced with the video taken the night of the murder since Romy's father had set the group up on a shared drive. It clearly showed Max shooting Donny. Brandon thought he was pretty slick, but he had the look of a serial killer and I didn't like the way he kept staring at Beckett. He said he had kept the video just in case he needed to prove their innocence. We now had a video of Donny's murder, which was creepy even to me.

I couldn't help but think about Donny's parents and what they would go through emotionally when they eventually saw the recording of their son's final moments.

And just what were the odds of any murder being recorded? Not likely. Brandon just happened to conveniently be in possession of a recording proving his innocence. It was pre-meditated – all of it - and Brandon was the mastermind. Or at least he thought he was.

Beckett and I both agreed Brandon planned the shooting then killed Max, making it appear a suicide, but we needed something more before we could pounce on his psychotic ass. He'd presented rock solid proof to the police showing he wasn't the one to actually pull the trigger. It would be hard to make our charges to stick.

We interviewed Amanda, the other girl present at the shooting. She's distraught over losing not one, but two of her close friends. She admitted she used to date Donny, but then cheated on him moving on to Brandon. I accused her of going where the money was but she denied it. Beckett and I kept pushing.

We said Brandon wasn't happy being second choice. She was only with Brandon because he had money and Donny didn't. Brandon was angry and jealous. We told her we knew she was the one taking the video that night, which she claimed was no big deal, until we asked her who told her to record it.

We saw it on her face the moment it clicked. She realized it was Brandon and knew he was capable of murder. Brandon had set up Donny's shooting, killed Max to cover his tracks, and then used his friends as an alibi.

Unfortunately, at this point, we couldn't place Brandon at the scene of Max's murder. What we had was all circumstantial.

We went to see Brandon again to confront him about being a suspect but it got us nowhere. We couldn't break the little prick. He actually had the balls to taunt us about the police having the video, and maintained Max got drunk and shot himself. I was surprised Beckett didn't shoot him when he snidely called her hot. I thought about doing the deed myself. The woman has restraint, I'll tell you. Man, I hate that kid.

Brandon thought he'd planned the perfect crime, which of course I knew wasn't possible, since I had yet to write it.

Then I had an epiphany. I remembered hearing Romy's dad had linked all their phones via blue tooth so we called for their phone records. Bingo. We could now prove Brandon was with Max at the time he was killed because when they were within yards of each other, their phone systems automatically synced. It was completely traceable.

We brought Brandon into the precinct, confident we could convict him. He made another lewd comment to Beckett and it was all I could do to keep from beating him to a pulp. I calmly confronted him with our new-found evidence implicating him of the crimes.

Beckett graciously allowed me take the lead on the questioning so I went for it. I got in his face, played out the series of events. I said Max had called him, probably to confront him about being set up for killing his best friend, but Brandon got him drunk and then tied up loose ends by getting rid of Max. I bated him Amanda was only with him because of his money. A couple more minutes of interrogation and I broke him. He confessed. Ironically, it was all recorded.

Another case closed, I was looking forward to finally sleeping in my own bed, but it's funny how plans change.

My mother whole-heartedly agreed it would be a great idea to surprise Alexis, so I called the school and signed myself up as a chaperone on her class trip. I needed to spend some quality time with my daughter and nothing was going to stop me – not even the fear of my mother having another party. Ok, that thought does still terrify me, but I'll get over it. She needs to have a little fun too.

I learned a few things this time around…

First, I need to be a better parent since Alexis is my… well she's my…everything, so I'll be paying closer attention to what's going on in her life from now on.

Second, Beckett and I seemed to have finally found our groove as partners during this case, not counting the ear-yanking thing.

And lastly, I was reminded of how lucky I was…as I continued to find myself in the company of brilliant women.

**A/N**: Thanks for reading! Kate's up next! Review? Bueller? Bueller? Anyone? Anyone? (best movie ever ;-))


	6. Chapter 6 Hell Hath No Fury Rick

_**Love Letters Chapter 5**_

_**Hell Hath No Fury, Rick's journal, Episode 4 **_

_**Disclaimer:**__ Beckett and Castle are not mine and this is just a hobby, pastime, diversion, addiction, and obsession. Wow! It doesn't really look all that healthy in print does it?_

_**Author's Notes: **__Thanks for tuning in! Here's another chapter but please accept my apologies as it appears I'm a ditz and RL must have been more hectic than usual because as I prepared to post this chapter I find I've skipped completely over Episode 3 in error and worked on Episode 4 all week. So the next couple I do will be Rick's and Kate's view of Episode 3, Hedge Fund Homeboys. I'll fix the order of the chapters later. Let me know what you think. Karen _

_**April 1, 2009**_

This week's been an emotional roller-coaster. _Storm Fall_ was finally released and although it was planned, it still seemed to come out of left field. It's hard saying good-bye to a beloved character, but at the same time I'm ready to move forward.

Farewell Derrick Storm…and thanks for the awesome ride.

I'm relieved it's over and done with, end of an era and all that, and stand firm by my decision to end the series, however I'm not immune to the fact I'm in the company of skeptics.

Among those doubters, of course, is my own darling mother who, in her infinite wisdom, believes it her duty to torture me with obscure negative reviews. I know she's truly in my corner and her main goal is to keep me grounded, but I also believe she may be trying to kill me. I must be the most grounded guy in the literary universe. The woman has mad skills.

And no matter what I told Beckett, of course I worry about public perception. Whether you're just starting out or you have 26 novels under your belt - you want everyone to love your book. It's from your heart, your soul - it's a part of you. And deep down, we all want to be loved.

Realistically, I know not everyone is going to be crazy about me, which brings me to my next topic; my latest muse (she loves when I call her that) Kate Beckett and the case we just wrapped up together. Well, not together. It was more like she did her super-hero detective thing and I assisted when she let me or when I could sneak it in.

I'd been creepily (her word, not mine) observing Beckett doing paperwork and drinking some exceptionally lousy coffee when we got the call a body had dropped. I was immediately psyched for something to do. It's not that I relish death, but anything was a welcome distraction from Beckett's incessant teasing and accusations I was in hiding due to the looming book release.

And for the record, I was not in hiding. I was simply going with the flow, taking a chill, focusing on my new muse, conducting research. You get the idea.

Any worries were for naught, since it all worked out in the end and the book is a rousing success. I somehow managed to, once again, pull it off.

So, the rug holding our victim was discovered in a dumpster, by two guys moving into the building. They took the rug to their new apartment, unrolled their treasure only to find our victim with a bullet wound to the head. There was no wallet found on the body. I informed the detectives our victim was Congressional Candidate Jeff Horn.

An aside… While I have a great respect for the value of good old-fashioned detective work, why am I the only one who knows how to Google? I'm just saying.

Right from the start, both Beckett and I concluded that although it had been set up to resemble one, this was not just a robbery. A robber is not going to take the time to wrap up a dead body and then stick around to throw him away and a real robber would have left the body where they killed the guy. This murder was pre-meditated.

I shot a photo of the rug over to an ex-girlfriend who was also my former interior decorator to see if she knew where it came from. I thought it was pretty clever using my resources but Beckett thought I was taking pictures of a dead body, which is just gross. She doesn't really quite get me yet.

Beckett breaks the bad news to the teary and grief-stricken widow, Laurie Horn, who then directs us to Frank Nesbit, her husband's campaign manager and long-time best friend. Everyone at the campaign headquarters is shocked and distraught.

Who would want to kill Jeff Horn; congressional candidate, family man, Joe Upstanding Citizen? Many people, apparently.

Nesbit points us to Calvin Creason, slimy hotel mogul, whose attempts at building a hotel and club on the lower east side were thwarted by Jeff Horn killing it in committee. This gave him motive.

This guys a real piece of work. He was bold enough to rejoice about Horn's death in front of us and could care less about being the main suspect in a homicide investigation. He claimed nonchalantly that he hated the victim but had an alibi and didn't do it. I wanted to arrest him on the spot for being a prick, but Beckett's all about the rules so with nothing substantial to hold him on at the moment, we left. Before we left the building, I found the same rug our victim was found on in one of the rooms of Creason's hotel. This discovery was followed by Beckett arresting his ass. They are going to have to sanitize the interrogation room.

As repulsive as the guy is, meaning I wouldn't want my daughter within a hundred yards of him, this slime-ball was clearly a red-herring. I debated my theory with Beckett but she argued it was nonsense and thinks he's guilty as sin. She never listens. If I had to fathom a guess, I would say she was probably still smarting because I figured out the rug came from Creason's hotel before she did. Also, Beckett seems to like arguing with me as much as I do her. We could make it an Olympic sport. And I was not gloating…much.

Beckett and I both learned some valuable lessons during her interview of Creason. For starters, the two-way mirror used in the interrogation room – not so sound-proof, and second, this didn't look like our guy. His motive was weak. And he claimed to know for a fact that Jeff Horn wasn't going to get elected and pointed us to Horn's opponent in the congressional race, Jason Bollinger.

Creason said there was some pretty incriminating dirt flying around on our victim that would have ensured Horn would lose the election.

In other words it would have been an election-killer...if you get my pun.

We head out to the Bollinger campaign site to check out the dirt on Horn.

Bollinger admits to having compromising photos of Congressman Horny with someone other than his wife but swears they were never going to use them. He says they were only discovered during normal opposition research. It's a dirty business, politics. He tells us who the photographer was.

Next stop, Bruce Kirby, former cop, now photographer/private detective. I didn't like this guy one bit. Here's a guy who makes a living taking pornographic photos of people without their consent and he's taking cheap pot shots at my books - second rate novelist, my ass.

He tells us the girl in the photos was a professional and we go back to the precinct to see if we locate her. Maybe she can shed some light on this. She might even be our killer.

I assisted the boys in finding the girl on the internet, participated in some harmless male bonding and call her up leaving a message for a date. What? I'm all about the research. And yes, I realize I called a prostitute, while standing in the middle of a police station, but it was all for the cause. I'm a team player. Beckett may not approve of my methods, but I've discovered I can out-run her.

I'd hoped the espresso machine I gifted to the precinct would put me back in her good graces, but she didn't seem too impressed. I know how much she loves coffee, so I figured it would be perfect. I don't know what her problem is. At least the boys loved it, so I'm happy. They work insanely hard so I figured the least I can do to repay them would be to provide a good cup of coffee - not that garbage they've been forced to tolerate.

Beckett may have acted indifferent in front of the guys, but I knew she would sneak a cup when I was gone. Later, I caught her red-handed and scared the crap out of her. It was great. In hindsight, I wish I'd used my cell phone camera, so I could tease her about it, but at the time, I couldn't move. I stood, mesmerized and transfixed, as her eyes made love to the lucky cup of joe. For a woman to look that longingly at a simple cup of coffee it was apparent to me she was way overdue in the pampering department. When I snapped out of it, I remembered myself and snuck up on her. She dropped the whole damn thing. I know, it was mean but hey, it's what I do.

But seriously, she deserves to be spoiled, and if a good cup of coffee is all it takes to put that look on her face, then so it shall be. Since she's not comfortable using the machine, I'll just have to bring her in a fresh cup every day. No big deal, I'll get one for the both of us.

Alexis seemed concerned when she questioned if there was something going on with Beckett and me, but I denied it. She brought up the fact that when I typically base a character on a real person there's usually more to it. She's right. Normally when I spend this much time with a woman you can bet there is something happening, but I'm still damaged goods from my divorce from Gina and my current focus is on work and Alexis.

I must be growing up because I'm getting better at reading my daughter. I've learned to read between the lines, listen to what she doesn't say, and to pay attention to her expressions, which were screaming "worried and oh, no not again" even though she was sort of smiling. She's had to put up with a lot from me and the women I've brought into our lives, starting with her own mother, so I don't blame her for being concerned, but this time she can relax.

Beckett and me, it's strictly business, but in a good way. She's finally beginning to take me more seriously. We're...productive, partners - _professional _partners and we make a good team.

Yeah, there's no question I find her attractive, who wouldn't, and it's a kick sparring with her. She's interesting, different. I love that she doesn't care about my fortune or fame in the least and she keeps me on my toes. But working and sleeping together never works out. Things eventually get all weird. I can see us eventually becoming good friends but that's as far as it goes. A girl like that, she's probably dating someone anyway.

So I made a date with Tiffany, the prostitute...there's really no good segue for that statement…and Beckett and I went to the restaurant to meet the girl. Tiffany told us Horn stopped seeing her because someone had photos of them together, he was being blackmailed and he couldn't keep up with the payoffs or the campaign would notice the missing funds.

We go back to Jason Bollinger's office where he claims he hasn't shown the photos to anyone. He's got no reason to release them since his new campaign opponent is none other than Laurie Horn, running in her deceased husband's place. Photos of this sort would only bring more sympathy to her cause and aid her campaign.

We show the pictures to Nesbit and demand to see the financial records for the campaign. Nesbit begs us not to release any of the photos to the public since it would only inflict more pain on the Horn family.

We return to the office of Bruce Kirby, ex-cop, amateur photographer, and poor judge of what's hot in fiction these days. He's our blackmailer. Turns out he wasn't a very good ex-cop either. He's got a terrible record, is known for using excessive force and low and behold, he's in possession of a 38, which is the same type of gun that shot our victim.

Kirby admitted to blackmail but not murder. He said the same night Jeff Horn was killed he was supposed to meet with Horn, who had agreed to pay him $250,000 to end the blackmail, but Horn never showed.

It appears our victim was robbed and by someone knew Horn had all that money on him. And where would a low-paid public servant go if he needed a quick $250 grand?

It was Alexis who made me realize where Horn would get that kind of money. Alexis would come to me, of course, if she was in trouble. And Horn would go to his wife. Laurie Horn, who we find out came from old money, would be the one to get her cheating husband out of a jam. She knew her husband was cheating on her.

Unbeknownst to Laurie Horn, we got a warrant to search her home and found the $250k. We questioned her and she confessed to knowing he was embezzling funds from the campaign, he'd told her he was cheating on her, about the photos and the blackmail and convinced her to give him the money to make it all go away. She claims she didn't do the deed herself, but she is the one that set it up, called the killer and had him intercept her husband's meeting with Kirby. The killer…is their long-time family friend, Frank Nesbit.

She tells us where her husband met his actual demise and we find the bullet casings. We arrest Nesbit at the campaign headquarters, catching him after he tried to bolt.

My favorite part… Ryan tells him, "Stop running bro, campaign's over." Ryan's training is coming along nicely.

Another case solved.

Back at the precinct Roy complemented me, not Beckett, for the impressive work on the case. I thought she was going to blow a gasket until she realized Roy was only yanking her chain. You've got to love the guy. Even he sees the woman needs to lighten up a bit. I would have stayed to tease her some more but I had to run since Alexis called to remind me of the book reading I was now late for.

Here's where the evening got interesting.

I was at the bookstore in the middle of my reading. The audience, mostly women, was riveted to my every word. They were eating it up. Tears were falling. I was using my narrator voice, half bedroom – half distinguished author, when I look up and there she is. Kate Beckett. Looking beautiful, in the hottest little pink slip of a dress, legs a mile long, in the sexiest black high heels.

This is the stuff dreams are made of – professional partners or not. And she's just standing there, locking eyes with me, wearing _that_ outfit and a knowing look. She completely threw me off track then shot me a wicked grin which snapped me out of it enough so I could finish the reading.

I approached her and asked what she was doing there. She told me she figured if I could bother her at work, well then, she could bother me at mine. Then the evil woman recited and made fun of some of my, I admit, more flowery prose and continued to tell me how to do my job. She added she knows how irritating that can be. She's cute, huh?

I was about to tell her I'd promise to be a lot less irritating if she'd dress like that for work every day but my mother and daughter appeared.

My mother casually mentions the name of the main character in my next book, based on Beckett, is Nikki Heat. Thank you mother. I'd been saving that for a much less public arena.

Beckett flips out, not listening to reason. I did warn her that the character was kind of slutty, but in a good way. I just never said the actual name of the character. I think it's a great cop name. She thinks it sounds like a stripper name and wants me to change it. Nikki Heat. It's memorable. I tried to explain how cool future book titles would be. They were limitless… Summer Heat, Heat Wave, In Heat, all great names, but this only seemed to make her madder. She's all hot when she's angry so it's not really a complaint.

I wanted to tell her it's actually not too late to change it, and since I've seen her in that outfit, I'm thinking I could go sluttier with the name. I decided it was in my best interest to refrain from playing with her further since I'd decided I wanted to live.

I knew I should have felt remorseful. I should have told her myself beforehand. I wasn't thinking. And as she chased me around that store I tried hard not to laugh but it's not easy being remorseful and serious when someone is trying to attack you with a full-blown cardboard cut-out of yourself. It just kept coming at me and couldn't help but think I shouldn't beat myself up about it.

She'll get over it eventually. She just needs to get used to the idea. After all it's only a name.

It's not as though I could name the character Kate Beckett…

**A/N:** So, did you like it? Please review. It keeps me going. Constructive criticism is always welcome!


	7. Chapter 7 Hedge Fund Homeboys Kate

_**Love Letters **_

_**Hedge Fund Homeboys: Kate's journal**_

_**Disclaimer:**__ Beckett and Castle are not mine and this is just a hobby, pastime, diversion, addiction, and obsession. Unhealthy, you say? Probably, but it beats doing wash._

_**Author's Notes: **__Here's Kate's journal entry on Hedge Fund Homeboys. Sorry for the delay, but she's been pretty busy, what with all the murders. ;-) _

As soon as Kate came home from work she changed into comfortable clothes, happily selected unhealthy snacks from the pantry in lieu of a proper dinner, and plopped down on the couch. Absentmindedly grasping her mother's ring which hung on the chain around her neck, she leaned back and kicked up her feet on the coffee table. She wanted nothing more than to decompress from her day with a relaxing night of mindless television. Unfortunately, the network gods had other plans.

She could channel-surf with the best of them, but the number of police procedurals airing simultaneously was positively criminal and did little to take her mind off the case they'd just closed. The events of the last couple of days were still playing back in her head, making it clear she wasn't truly finished with her work day. Frustrated, she muted the television and grabbed her journal off the coffee table…

**March 27, 2009**

I need to put this last case to rest but I can't seem to shut it down. If those damn kids weren't so reckless we could have prevented the second murder. Unfortunately, they were lulled under a false sense of security by a diabolical homicidal maniac and concealed information about their friend's death from the police. The harsh reality of it all - two pre-meditated murders, kids killing kids, and the covering of not one, but two heinous crimes. It still makes me sick and the outcome wasn't as satisfying as it could have been.

I sometimes wonder what my life would have been like if I'd gone another route and maybe became a librarian instead of a cop; nestled safely within the walls of books, occasionally having to shush someone, and where the most dishonest act to take place could be remedied by paying a late fine. Would I have been happier?

I guess I'll never know, for my past has led me here. My job's hunting killers, solving crimes, and being surrounded by constant death while investigating some of the more unpleasant aspects of human nature. Like I said this case was a downer.

I know my job's not all bad. I help the families of the victims, ensuring they obtain what I could not – closure. Plus, there's the camaraderie and a few laughs along the way, more so lately. Besides I would have made a terrible librarian.

Then of course, there's the satisfaction of getting the bad guy. Take this last case. Tonight there's one less psycho on the streets. Lord knows what horrific acts this kid would still be committing if he hadn't been caught. If only we could have stopped him before the second murder had occurred.

As much as this case affected me, I think it really hit home for Castle who didn't look like he'd been getting any sleep the past few days. I know he's worried about his own daughter. He's probably trying to find ways to keep her safe until she's old and gray and I can't say I blame him. If I was him, I'd be afraid too, although it's been my experience you can't save everyone.

When I told the Anderson's about their eighteen year-old son Donny's death, I could tell his father felt responsible. Mr. Anderson had been laid off from his job and Donny had been allowed to continue on at Redding Prep only due to a scholarship. The family was just getting by financially.

It wasn't my place, but I wanted to tell them Donny wasn't killed because of their bank balance. The signs were pointing to a calculated murder. Anderson's not to blame, just like my father couldn't have prevented my mother's murder years ago. But guilt is a powerful enemy.

I know my father worried about me when my mother was killed, before he hit the bottle to forget it all, and also that part of the reason for his drinking problem was his guilt over the inability to protect her. The fact remains, it wasn't his fault.

Donny was found with a bullet wound to his chest, afloat a boat in Central Park. Cause of death; a game of Russian roulette and a set up by his jealous friend Brandon which led to Max, one of the other kids, shooting Donny. Then Brandon killed Max, his death made to appear a suicide over his overwhelming grief at shooting Donny.

The entire crime planned by an extraordinarily diabolical high school student. Psychotics come in all different ages, but why didn't anyone notice this boy had homicidal tendencies? And where the hell were his parents through this ordeal?

Surprisingly, Castle took the investigation more seriously than our previous ones. He didn't constantly interrupt me during most of the interviews even though it was obvious the kids were lying from the start. He followed my lead and was less impulsive than usual.

I think he's finally starting to appreciate the finesse needed in detective work. You can't just go around accusing people of a crime without proof even if your gut tells you they're guilty. He actually showed some self-restraint which is a small miracle, but I'll take it. There may be hope for him yet.

He's got a penchant for details. At the park where Ryan had discovered the exact location of the shooting, he pointed out the large pool of blood found next to the park bench indicated our victim must have stayed where he was shot for a long while before someone later came back and dragged his body over to the boat. This was a clue it was planned.

He asks the right questions. Why _didn't_ Donny's friends pay off the drug dealer? They're a bunch of rich kids. They could have bailed out their friend. They were lying. And why the hell didn't I think of this myself?

Our quintessential New Yorker, the 911 caller, first tortured Esposito then picked out Kent Scoville, a drug dealer, from his mug shot. She says she saw him fleeing the scene after the shot rang out. We brought him into custody and are able to hold him for dealing. Romy, one of the other girls present at the shooting also id's Scoville. She lied and claimed he shot Donny.

Scoville could be our guy but doesn't seem smart enough to pull this off, nor is he known to carry. He brought in his weasel of a lawyer, Yankman, who I've dealt with before and somehow have repeatedly not yet smacked. Yankman knew the drill though, so he cooperated fully.

With Scoville in custody, Roy and the mayor wanted nothing more than for us to wrap it up tight in a pretty little package in time for their Knicks' game, but Castle and I agreed he wasn't our guy. Scoville was being set up. I liked Castle's tenacity and sense of justice. He pushed for us to look further.

Max turns up dead. Gunshot wound to the head. At first it did look like a guilty conscience, but Lanie confirmed Max's death was set up to look like a suicide. She tells us Max had help pulling the trigger on himself. So now there were two murders and a killer on the loose. Unfortunately, we didn't figure out for sure it was Brandon until it was too late.

Brandon turned over his cell phone to us which contained a video of Max shooting Donny, therefore proving his own "innocence". We needed more proof before we could make his arrest.

We questioned Brandon again and he had the audacity to toy with us and make lewd comments to me. I came very close to shooting him and although it would have felt fantastic, the red tape would have been a nightmare. He's lucky I really hate doing paperwork. Besides, it was much more rewarding to know he'd be behind bars and someone's bitch soon enough. Castle and I kept moving forward with the investigation knowing it would only be a matter of time before the truth came out. What we needed was motive.

We questioned Brandon's girlfriend, Amanda, who was also present at the shooting. She also turned out to be Donny's ex-girlfriend. We pushed to her to admit she'd dated Donny before his parents funds had depleted. When he was broke, she hooked up with Brandon. She admitted Brandon told her to take the video the night of Donny's shooting. Brandon was jealous of Donny, capable of killing, and he was the one who set Max up during their game of Russian roulette. Then he killed Max and used her and their friends as cover. We had our motive.

Castle mentions the kid's phones were all set up on a shared drive to sync to each other so we put a trace on Brandon's phone to prove he was present at the time and place of Max's suicide. We've got him.

We brought Brandon into the precinct again confident we had enough to convict him. The kid made another lewd comment and I thought Castle was going to jump him across the table. Not that I can't handle myself, but it was kind of sweet to see Castle wanting to defend my honor.

I let him take the lead with Brandon which was a good call because Castle's been paying attention. His interrogation of Brandon was fun to watch. I thought about making popcorn. Castle got in his face, pushed and pushed until the kid broke. The look on Castle's face was priceless. He couldn't believe he'd gotten Brandon to cave. My only concern is now he'll want to interrogate everyone.

After the case wrapped, he went on a much needed trip out of town with Alexis. Like I said, the case hit home and he needed to spend time with his daughter.

So the case is finally over. It wasn't all doom and gloom. There were some lighter moments. For instance, I was compared to Meryl Streep after I tricked the kids into believing I'd attended York Prep. I had to pull out all the punches to get them to talk so it's nice to know I've still got it. My performance fooled Castle too, which was easier than one would expect. I'm filing that little tidbit away for a rainy day. You never know when it could come in handy. I can't wait for his next poker game. Mama needs a new pair of shoes.

And although I'm still getting used to having a partner, I mean consultant, whatever, working together is going smoother than I thought it would. We get along pretty well and it was helpful to bounce ideas off him. He can even be somewhat…entertaining.

He mentioned being kicked out of quite a few schools and almost sounded proud. I can only imagine what a teenage Castle was like; probably a charming, holy terror – just my type back in the day. These days however, we're of differing opinions on the subject. While he still enjoys his bad-boy image, I'm relieved at how much I've grown.

We're still working out some boundary issues but I'm no longer concerned. While he takes great pleasure in invading my personal space, I've figured out a way to remedy this problem. It involves some serious ear pulling but it's pretty effective. I believe we've reached a new level of understanding. If he behaves maybe I'll even let him re-watch Brandon's confession tape.

He was wrong about one thing though…he claimed he's going to write the perfect crime someday. I tried telling him it's not possible, but of course he wouldn't listen. I know I'm right because there's no such thing as a perfect crime. Not if we do our job right. Not if we keep looking and don't give up. There's always a screw up, always a clue, and eventually the truth comes to light. Same as it will with my mother's case. I have to believe this. It's the only thing keeping me moving forward.

His perfect crime theory aside, most of Castle's insights were, pardon the pun, dead on. Oh my God, he's starting to rub off on me. This case must have affected me more than I realized. Someone please save me…

**_A/N: Hope you enjoyed it! A review would be appreciated! Next up:_ I've decided I'm both bored and impatient, and don't want to wait a year to explore a jealous Castle and Kate of future seasons, so on the next chapter I'm going to jump ahead. Let me know if you have a favorite episode anywhere from season 1-4 and if a couple of people vote for the same one, that's the one I'll work on next. Feel free to tell me if this is a bad idea or not. You can PM if you prefer. Thanks for reading! Karen**


	8. Chapter 8 He's Dead, She's Dead   Rick

Disclaimer: They're not mine. Just taking them out for a ride.

A/N: Haven't done one of these for a while. Hope you enjoy it!

Love Letters

He's Dead, She's Dead: Season 3, Episode 2

Fate or Coincidence?

How can Beckett not believe in fate, or psychics? I was right to call her a Scully earlier. If she can't prove it, it's all fiction. She didn't take too kindly to the reference, but I was dead on. And, yes, that would make me Mulder in this little scenario of ours, I suppose. I'm totally a Mulder. I just don't get how she can't believe in even the possibility of psychics when our case is now closed, but there are still so many unanswered questions. Plus, I love to screw with Beckett's head; gives me a little thrill, and for some reason it never gets old.

Today we closed the murder case of psychic, Vivian Marchand, who – get this – predicted her own murder. How cool is that? A renowned psychic and medium, one who can talk to the dead, mails a letter to the police with clues pertaining to her own death hours before it occurs. Oooh, I just got a chill up my spine!

Anyway, we investigated her murder and of course the minute Beckett gets wind of the victim's occupation, she goes all Scully on my ass – so I of course, agree to play the part of Mulder in return. Beckett thought that the psychic stuff was all a load of crap, but I disagreed.

The body was found by the victim's daughter Penny who believed in her mother's abilities, as did I. While it's true Vivian's involvement on some of the cases she worked with the police may have been slightly exaggerated, it's also true some of those predictions still led to the arrest of a dozen criminals.

So what, if Vivian did some research on her clients and those she did readings for, myself included. Like I told Beckett, I can make up a story like nobody's business, but I still have to do research too. Just because some information was public knowledge doesn't negate Vivian's true ability to predict the future or talk to dead people. Yeah, yeah, I know, it sounds even a little far-fetched to me too, but hey, you never know. I like to keep an open mind. We don't know everything about the human brain and you have to be open the possibilities.

The letter Vivian mailed to the police said she knew she was in danger, and it also left vague clues about a man in all black, and some numbers which turned out to be nothing more than similar to her daughter Penny's cell number. We looked into a wide range of possible suspects; her clients, those she helped put away, and searched for the _T.J._ that had been written in her appointment book the day she was killed.

Back at the precinct, we interviewed mother and daughter, Paula and Marina Casillas, Vivian's last appointment for the day. They were clients of Vivian's because they believed she could talk to Paula's dead husband, Emilio. Neither Beckett, nor the boys believed in psychics or mediums and gave me crap for having an open mind.

We followed a lead Paula gave us about a man she saw at Vivian's office. He turned out to be a low-level mob guy named Albert Moreno. Vivian had promised him true happiness, which didn't work out too well - or so it seemed. Angry at Vivian for advising him to invest unwisely, and having just lost everything, he'd gone to see Vivian in a fit of rage. Vivian advised him to wait it out, his happiness was imminent, and so he did. Now destitute, he ended up having to sell his house causing him to then hook up again with his high school sweetheart – the real estate agent! The guy's never been happier. I mean, come on…Vivian totally called that – I don't care what Beckett says.

Later we tracked down one of the guys Vivian had put away, Steve Adams, who'd been recently released from jail. Steve argued publicly with Vivian proclaiming his innocence, but the guy didn't kill her. He did however lead us to reality show producer, Cody Donnelly, who'd filmed the confrontation.

Worried about her reputation being tarnished by the Steve Adams footage, Vivian told Cody she was on to something bigger and that if he ditched the tape she'd let him be there to record the killer being confronted. Vivian had told Cody she had an appointment first, but then she'd meet up with him later in the day, only he never heard from her. Her appointment was with Toni Johnston, our T.J. from the appointment book. Take that Scully!

I thought I'd die when Cody asked Beckett if that was her _smokin' hot bod_ on the cover of Nikki Heat. His words, not mine. I was surprised she didn't throw him in a holding cell just for asking, although I really can't blame the guy. It does sort of look like it could be her. Not that I've given it much thought. Because I haven't. Not really. Well, maybe a little.

Where was I?

Oh yeah…so we paid a visit to T.J. who admitted to having an affair with her husband Nick's boss who was…wait for it… Emilio Casillas, dead husband of Paula Casillas - Vivian's client.

Penny, the victim's daughter came down to the precinct claiming to have abilities much like her mother and told us she now knows who killed her mother. Well, sort of. Penny dreamed she was having dinner with her mother and in the dream her mother advised her to "ask the Masons what happened, that it was the only way to get closure". As expected, Beckett didn't want to believe the girl, and for a minute there Beckett was so close-minded it didn't look like she was going to tell the boys about it, that is until the boys turned up a lead on Paula's whereabouts on the day of the murder. Low and behold, the Mason's in question were not the _Free Masons, _ which did seem a little, you know, out there, even for me, but it was the restaurant around the corner from Vivian's office called _Mason's_. Holy Crap! Queue creepy music.

Was it coincidence or something more? Beckett appeared torn. I could hear her belief system rattling. At first I wasn't sure she'd even act on the lead, but I convinced her to call the restaurant. Sometimes she can be so stubborn. I mean really, she'd just practically been handed the evidence on a silver platter, but still she was skeptical. Such a Scully.

The Mason's restaurant was the lead we'd been hoping for. The manager confirmed Paula and Marina Casillas were dining there at the time of Vivian's death, but _not_ the entire time. Apparently Paula, scorned wife slash murderess, had left in the middle of dinner to go stab Vivian with an ice pick before returning later for dessert.

Lanie re-autopsied Emilio's body, and then we got Paula to confess to everything. She'd been slowly poisoning Emilio's coffee with drugs she'd stolen from the vitamin company he'd owned. Vivian knew from her sessions with T.J. and Paula that Emilio had been having an affair with T.J., and then somehow figured out Paula played a part in her husband's death.

Did Emilio speak to Vivian from beyond the grave? We'll never know. More importantly, Paula believed Vivian did. She thought her dead husband was communicating to the medium as to her sins, and Paula took matters into her own hands killing Vivian.

So, were the leads simply a coincidence? I think not. The medium predicting her own death? Albert the mob guy following Vivian's advice, losing everything only to reconnect with his high school sweetheart - achieving the happiness he'd longed for? Penny's dream leading us to the Mason's? Come on…how can Beckett not see this?

I worry about her. She confessed to _not_ believing in soul mates, fate, fairies or double rainbows and it makes me sad. If she doesn't believe in any of those things, if she doesn't believe in magic, how will she ever find it? And what the hell does she mean there's no Santa Claus! Of course there is.

But I'll continue to have hope enough for the both of us, for Beckett is after all, a work in progress, as are we all. And although she may _say_ she doesn't believe in any of those things, my Scully does admit to following her gut on occasion, which is based completely on feelings and _not_ facts. Ah, the intangible feeling. There is hope for that woman yet.

And it may be nothing, but there was this one moment…Penny mentioned something to Beckett about an Alexander. I only overheard the tail end of their conversation, so I wish I knew more, but whatever it was, got to Beckett because when I told her my middle name happened to be Alexander she seemed spooked.

I'm starting to think what Ms. Beckett reveals and what she really feels may be two different things entirely.

Ah, the mystery that is Beckett… will she be the one I never solve?

A/N: I'd love to hear what you thought. Would you like more of these? / Eh, not so much? I'm episode hopping so let me know if you have a favorite episode you'd like to see done. Some people vacation in Hawaii – I watch Castle reruns. Life is good.


	9. Chapter 9 A Deadly Affair

**Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me, but they're all I have until Castle starts up again in September. Anyone know where I can buy a time ****machine? I'm not sure I can hold out.**

**Love Letters**

**Season 3, Episode 1: Airdate September 20, 2010**

**A Deadly Affair: Kate's personal journal entries for this episode.**

_September 20, 2010: Beware the signs..._

And here I thought it was just going to be another boring day. How wrong I was. In hindsight, I'd missed every sign. Being a detective, you'd think I would have paid better attention.

Sign number one: It started this morning at the precinct when Ryan brought Castle's name up.

And just like that it became Rick Castle Day.

Mentioning Castle was something the boys never did around me anymore. For the past three months Castle had managed to become _The Name We Do Not Speak_. Sure, I'd overheard them talking about him, but they'd always stop mid-conversation when I entered the room. Today however, Ryan slipped up. It was the Autumnal equinox and he recalled seeing Castle balance an egg on its end on this day last year. I informed Ryan it was superstition, a load of crap, however, after the events that followed, I've been forced to rethink my theory.

I knew Ryan felt bad bringing up Castle so I did my best to downplay it. Damage done, he and Esposito cautiously asked if I'd heard from Castle. When I told them I hadn't, they quickly let the subject drop. I'd just assumed Castle had become bored with our little precinct and had found himself a new muse or moved on to his next…publisher. Whatever. I figured he'd forgotten all about us.

To be perfectly honest it did hurt to think Castle could simply drop us from his life and never look back, but who I really felt bad for were Kevin and Javi. They'd practically idolized the guy, and then he took off, not once even giving them the common courtesy to call and check in. Ryan's been teetering somewhere between angry and lovelorn, while Esposito's been just plain mad.

But here they were, worried about me. They're sweet to worry; I'm not sure what I would do without either of them. I may be an only child, but I have two brothers, the way they watch out for me. Here I'd thought I'd been putting up a pretty good front and had managed just fine since Castle left, but obviously my act wasn't fooling either of them. I was sure I'd put it all behind me, until today when the mere mention of Castle's name had me on edge.

Sign number two: Castle was literally around every corner I turned. We were outside on the curb at a crime scene, where a woman had been shot then fallen to her death and there he was, larger than life; his image plastered on a cardboard cut-out in the shop's front window. The sign said he had a book reading there this weekend. His image mocked me; crystal blue eyes twinkled with mirth as they followed my gate, his lips taunting me, silently whispering "I'm not done with you yet". The truth literally knocked the wind out of me – Rick Castle was back.

I tried to put it out of my mind and concentrate on the case. Not an easy task.

We followed a lead of an address the victim had clutched in her hand only to find the apartment had been broken into. There was a man with his back turned to us, standing over a dead body, gun in his hand. We prepared to take him down. Ryan's gun was fired, but thankfully no one was shot. Raised voices demanded the man drop the gun. He froze and then slowly turned around. We couldn't believe our eyes. It was him. Rick Castle, prodigal writer slash cop wannabe, in the flesh, as though we'd conjured him up. To say we were shocked would be putting it mildly.

Gone for over three whole months and now suddenly he'd been catapulted back into my life. I didn't expect to ever see him again, except maybe for the occasional mention of his exploits on page six next to a photo of him parading some new blonde around - but there he was.

We hadn't seen him since he took off for the summer with his ex-wife - the same day I broke things off with Tom Demming because I'd been foolishly ready to accept Castle's offer to go to the Hamptons with him. Not that I'll ever tell him this. It was just as well really since it obviously would have been a colossal mistake. Had I known the invitation came with a time stamp and that I'd be so easily replaced…well, it was my own fault. I should have known better.

So there he was right in the middle of our second crime scene. Was I surprised to find him in trouble? No. Did I really think he'd just killed someone? No, not really, however, he _was_ standing over a corpse with a gun in his hand, so we really had _no choice_ but to arrest him and haul his ass down to the station. I keep telling myself this.

I won't deny a certain sense of gratification as I slapped those cuffs on him.

XXXXX

When we arrived back to the precinct I interrogated him about the murder. We'd just arrested his ass, he was a murder suspect and yet he still managed to find time to flirt with me. I told him he looked good too – for murder. Will he ever take anything seriously? Highly doubtful. How he can still flirt under dire circumstances I will never understand, but I will say this…the guy can multi-task. And of course he looked good, he looked fine, or as Ryan would say, ruggedly handsome, but I'd rip off my fingernails one by one before I'd ever tell him that. I mean, he still hadn't apologized for not calling when he got back.

It's possible I might have had some residual anger issues to work out where he was concerned. In this, I was not alone. I think the Captain and the boys were angrier than I was. It wasn't easy to keep my focus on the case, but I did my best - after I argued with him some more.

Castle said he knew the victim, she'd done a sculpture for him once and today out of the blue, she'd called him for help. I continued my questioning, drilling his ass. He asked me why I was so mad at him. Seriously, how could he not know this? What was wrong with him? He was a smart guy; he'd just have to figure it out on his own. I asked him why he didn't call and he froze up. I'd meant why didn't he call when he found the body, but I know he thought I'd meant why didn't he call after he got back to the city. His expression was priceless. He claimed he was about to call us, but then we showed up on our own. Yeah, right. I plan to watch the video again tomorrow. I'd forgotten how easy it was to torture him.

I questioned him about the victim, asked him if he'd been sleeping with her, but he denied it and got defensive. He asked me how that question was pertinent. Thank God I'm able to think on my feet. I explained I was simply trying to establish motive. Then he told me he's still in a "relationship" with Gina. I'd half expected him to admit he'd been having an affair with the now deceased teacher so I was slightly thrown by this news. Then he had the audacity to accuse me of being jealous. I am not jealous. That would be ridiculous.

I could care less who he's in a relationship with; he could date a thousand women. The more the merrier. Then he had the audacity to bring up Demming. I could feel the boys and probably the Captain too, listening in to every word from behind the mirror. Castle must have seen my hesitation because he pounced. I fought the need to run and prepared for battle. He seemed surprised Demming and I had broken up. He looked like he wanted more information on the subject, but there was no way in hell I was having that conversation with him. Things went rapidly downhill from there.

He claimed to have picked up the gun to protect himself even though I had to remind him he'd been to a hundred crime scenes and knew the drill. Some things never changed; the man had to touch everything!

I asked him why I should believe him and he cried "You know me", which was interesting since I wasn't quite sure I ever did.

It turned out the gun Castle was holding wasn't the gun that killed the victim so he was technically free to go. Tempting as it was to take the Captain up on his offer to hold Castle overnight; I took the high road and told him he was free to leave. Then the nut asked if he could stay and help on the case. I practically kicked him out of the precinct.

Lanie examined the bodies and pointed out both victims had tattoos that appeared to be the work of the same artist. She kept pushing me to talk about how I felt at seeing Castle again. I told her I was fine, which I was. I just wanted to focus on solving the case. I'd sent Rick Castle away and thought he was finally gone for good.

But life's funny that way…

We arrived at the next crime scene and there he was again presiding over yet another dead body. A normal person would stop and wonder how they'd managed to find themselves continuously surrounded by dead people, yet he could only focus on how clever he was for finding one. He had star 69'd the victim's phone, it had led him there and he was ever so very proud of himself. Clever he may be, but it also had never crossed his mind that he could have been hurt if the killer was still there. You'd think he might have called us with this news, you know, since we're the police and all, but instead he stormed headfirst into what he believed to be an active crime scene.

Esposito determined the victim's body had been cold for a long while so Castle was off the hook since he'd been in police custody at the time. Castle's crazy but he's no killer, so I tell him he can go. He refused to leave and practically begged to join us on the case. My counter argument - the only reason he was there was because he'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time. If he'd really wanted back on the team he would have called us when he returned from the Hamptons.

He told me he'd been waiting for me to call him, a comment which left me nearly speechless. He was the one to leave; he should be the one to call. How could he not see this? He makes me crazy! He attempted to turn up the charm full power to convince me that him showing up with the dead bodies was a sign from the universe we were supposed to solve this mystery together. He couldn't have laid it on any thicker.

Let me state for the record, until today, I'd never believed in fate or signs, or the symbolism of the equinox for that matter, but it had been a weird day and frankly he'd wore me down. I'd forgotten how exasperating he could be. The only thing clear to me at this point was he wasn't going away anytime soon; it might be better if I was able to keep an eye on him - we'd had enough bodies dropping for one day. Next thing I know, I heard myself agreeing to let him help us out on this one case.

I hate to admit it but he did make me wonder… was the universe trying to tell me something? Had I ignored all the signs or was it all just a coincidence?

He's exhausted me. I'm going to sleep now. Hopefully Castle's _universe_ will adjust itself by morning.

XXXXX

_September 21, 2010: The Bet_

When I got to work this morning I had vowed to myself to remain calm, cool and collected; unaffected by Castle's reappearance, but then he had to go and bring me coffee. No hello. He simply put the cup down in front of me, like it was the most natural thing in the world and then not skipping a beat asked me about the case. I stared at him in disbelief. He'd drifted right in, as though he hadn't been gone for months. Like he'd walked out of the room in the spring and then five minutes later walked back in again, the summer without him never happening. How's a girl not supposed to smile, or smack him over the head with something?

My smile was short-lived since it didn't take long before we found ourselves in a little contest. Honestly, some people are so competitive. Whoever figured out how the three bodies were connected won the bet. If I won he had to go away and never bother me on another case ever again. If he won I had to take him back as my partner. I became determined to be rid of him once and for all.

The boys were still pretty mad at him. You could cut the tension in the air with a knife. I knew they'd really missed him, but were trying hard not to talk to Castle out of their sense of loyalty to me. Since _I'm sorry_ doesn't appear to be a word in Castle's vast vocabulary, I decided to help smooth things over. I figured it would make for a better working environment and call me sentimental, but the man had brought me coffee so I tossed him a bone. I lied and said Castle _did_ say he was sorry for not calling them. This seemed to soften Ryan up a little, although Esposito would be harder to convince. It would have been nice if Castle had thought of apologizing himself, but… oh well.

We reviewed the case and our findings on the victims. Chloe Whitman was a science teacher, Maya Santori was a sculptor, and Todd Metuchen owned a vending machine business. The three victims were seemingly unrelated but we needed to find out how they were connected in order to break the case.

Todd's fiancé told us a loan shark named Dean Carbino had threatened to kill Todd if he didn't repay the fifteen thousand he owed him so we brought him in for questioning. Carbino was a real piece of work and claimed he had no motive since Todd had paid him back, in full, plus interest. He's a slime-ball, but his alibi checked out.

It was Castle's idea to compare the financials of each of the victims. How he'd thought of this before three trained detectives was a very good question. I'd forgotten how damn smart he was; his ability to think outside the box. I started to rethink Castle's place here. He'd been helpful in the past. Maybe I could work around the fact that he up and left us for months? Maybe being around him didn't have to be uncomfortable?

That's when it got uncomfortable.

I was writing on the murder board when I caught him staring at my ass. I'm certain I didn't imagine it. I'm sure he was waiting for me to call him out on it, but I never got the chance because Ryan strode over in the middle of our staring contest. If Castle was in a serious _relationship_ with Gina what the hell was he doing checking out the merchandise? Men...

I returned my focus to the case.

Esposito obtained the address from credit card charges that matched up on the victim's financials which led us to a burlesque bar owned by Kitty Canary and her husband Earl. Castle and I questioned the proprietors about the deceased. They informed us Chloe sometimes danced there, and Todd had a snake act while Maya was simply a patron. We still only know that they are linked somehow, but not _how_ they are connected so Castle hadn't won the bet yet. They told us how Chloe's boyfriend Evan Murphy followed Chloe to the club one night, fought with and threatened her. He's looking like a suspect.

We obtained the club's mailing list to check if anyone who frequented the place had a record. From these records we pulled up the file on Xander Foyle. Castle recognized the guy as the model for one of Maya's sculptures and we brought him in for questioning. Xander had an alibi but believed Chloe may have been involved in a meth house since he'd smelled chemicals on her when last he saw her. Per Lanie's findings this lead doesn't pan out. She informed us that traces of necessary chemicals and the finished product itself were not found on the bodies she'd autopsied.

We searched Evan's apartment and found the murder weapon, which he claimed wasn't his. It's been wiped entirely clean of prints and the whole thing started to feel like a set up. My gut told me it wasn't Evan. Someone planted it there, which led me to suspect the people that had pointed us to him.

That's when it all came together for me. We had a sculptor to make metal plates, a vending machine guy with unlimited dollar bills, and a Science teacher/chemist who knew how to whitewash them. Oh, and Miss Kitty the burlesque queen mentioned she worked in a tattoo shop as her day job, so that explained the ink. Yeah, I figured it out.

Now I could officially win the bet with Castle and make him go away again.

They say real power is not knowledge but knowing what to do with it. I pondered my next move. What to do? What to do?

This was the most fun I'd had all summer. He'd shown some real remorse over his lack of proper communication with his friends. He'd been trying to be on his best behavior. He'd been helpful on the case. Plus, there was the extra-added incentive of him getting in less trouble if I kept tabs on him.

I threw him a few clues.

Actually, I came close to taking out a marker and writing the answers on the murder board, but somehow stopped myself. Castle miraculously put two and two together and exclaimed it was a counterfeiting ring! He'd won the bet. It was hard trying to keep a straight face. Why does he have to be so damn cute?

We all went to pick Kitty and Earl up, and caught them red-handed as they prepared to leave town with a ton of counterfeit cash and the plates. They both made a run for it so I gave Castle a gun to protect himself along with perfectly clear instructions to stay put inside, advice which of course he would eventually ignore. Imagine my surprise.

We gave chase and ended up in the alley outside the bar which culminated in a modern day OK Corral standoff. My gun was pointed at Earl who was behind Castle and Castle was pointing the gun I gave him directly at me. Or so it seemed.

I really looked and I could see it in his eyes. I do know him, he was right, and the trust was still there. He would never point a gun at me, which could only mean there was someone behind me. And all at once we found our groove. We were both in the zone and everything clicked back into place again. Both our guns went off. He shot Kitty who'd been aiming a gun at me from behind where I stood, and my gun took down Earl from behind Castle. Bad guys defeated. We'd somehow made it through unharmed, although it was close. Just like old times. Castle looked as surprised as I'd felt.

Okay. I admit it. I've missed him. Somewhat.

Case closed, we returned to the precinct, and in an unusual turn of events, Castle's not gloating. Not only that but he's actually giving me an out. He starts to tell me if I really don't want him there then he'll leave, bet or no bet.

I fought the urge to hug him and told him he'd won fair and square and that I'd see him tomorrow. I want to say he looked…happy. That would make two of us.

I can do this...this friends and working partners thing. We _can_ pick up where we left off. I'm going to pretend the summer never happened. It's water under the bridge. He and I going away together...that just wasn't meant to be. Continuing to be partners though is a different story.

When Castle was out of ear-shot, Esposito, smart-aleck that he is, called me out on letting Castle win the bet. I'm admitting nothing. After all, a bet's a bet… ;-)

_A/N: Hope you enjoyed this installment. I would really love a review if you have a second! My next story will be a case story with some smut thrown in and your reviews keep me motivated. Thanks for reading. Karen_

_Note: The equinox brings a balance to the earth's rotation, and lowers the center of gravity. The Chinese are thought to have originated the practice of standing __eggs__ on end during the equinox. Just as the equinox symbolically restores balance to the world by signaling its rebirth after a season of darkness, the equinox literally balances the day by dividing it into equal portions of darkness and light. If the symbol of fertility — eggs — could be balanced on end during a day equally divided between day and night, this was a sign that all nature was in harmony. _

_I especially liked this episode because it showed Kate going with her gut instinct and questioning fate, even though she had no solid proof, much like Castle believes in the possibility. It showed they're more alike than they realize. That, and he's her light. I'm such a sappy fangirl...  
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	10. Chapter 10: The Limey

Disclaimer: God I love them but they're not mine and I can't wait until tomorrow's premier. Dying here…

Love Letters, Chapter 10, The Limey

Kate's journal entries

April 2, 2012

The scene Castle made tonight was completely ridiculous…

He was practically screaming, Look_ at me Kate…I'm back in town from my wild weekend in Vegas. Check out my just got laid face. Did you see the blonde bimbo? Met her on the plane. I'm about to get lucky again. Hey, I just gave her my car. How's it going? _And what the hell kind of name is Jacinda anyway? Seriously!

He's going to sleep with her. He wanted me to know, and he took great pleasure in flaunting it in my face tonight.

Even when he was with other women in the past he was never so crass as to throw it in my face. Tonight he didn't care. What the hell! His behavior is completely out of character. Or then again, maybe it's not. What if I only thought he'd changed his playboy ways since we've met? What if it was only wishful thinking on my part? I mean, the guys got a couple of divorces under his belt and a reputation for being a ladies' man. I'm still trying to wrap my head around this whole thing. I thought I knew him.

No. I do know him. He's not that playboy anymore. Something's happened. This is recent. He's changed again; he's pulling away from me. He's been cold and distant for days, and I have no idea where any of this is coming from. Maybe Lanie's right. Maybe I did wait too long, but after our talk on the swings I thought he understood me; I wanted a relationship with him, but I wasn't ready yet. I was working on it, but still needed more time. I thought he was okay with that. Obviously I was wrong. I thought he understood, but I guess writers need words and there was too much subtext. I should have been clearer, but instead I kept how I feel about him to myself and now he's off flying the friendly skies with Jacinda, the fucking blonde stewardess. What's next – a cheerleader?

This has to be more than being tired of waiting or fulfilling his biological needs. This came out of the blue. He's angry with me. It's rolling off of him in waves, but he won't tell me what's wrong. He's not acting any differently towards the boys or anyone else - just me. I haven't a clue as to what I did, but something happened and he's punishing me for it. He's barely making eye contact with me. His laugh is forced. He doesn't want to be around me. I'm surprised he even bothers to show up at all. What the hell is his problem?

If he thinks I've been stringing him along, well, he's way off base. I haven't been, not intentionally anyway. He's my best friend; I'd never do that to him, but Lanie's right; we've been in a holding pattern for way too long now. I have to tell him how I feel about him even if he's no longer interested in me. If we're not meant to be together then I need to know and move on. Maybe this _Jacinda_ is exactly his type - maybe I'm not, but I have to find out. It's a chance I have to take. At the very least, I have to try to salvage our friendship.

What the hell have I been waiting for? I face down hardened criminals every day without blinking. I should be able to tell a guy how I feel about him. I can do this. Part of me wants to forcefully grab him by the collar, push him up against a wall, and confess every warm, fuzzy, hot feeling I've ever had for him then proceed to erase every other woman from his mind.

My other half, the part that watches from behind closed eyes, is picturing them in bed together right now smiling and laughing, among other things. That part of me simply wants to run.

Well, screw that. Lanie's right. I've been sitting by the sidelines and it's time to get in the game. I'm losing him while I wait for some wall to crumble and it's gone on long enough. It's time to take a sledge hammer to the damn thing myself. I need to confront him, find out what's wrong and then I'm going to make him listen to me.

April 3, 2012

Today did not go as planned. Not only didn't I get a chance to work things out with Castle, but the situation got progressively worse. He skipped an interrogation today because he had a lunch date, a freaking lunch date, with the stewardess, and - his words - no personal interest in helping solve the case. This is getting seriously out of hand and my problems with Castle are making it hard to focus on the case.

A young woman was murdered and it's my job to find her killer. Dealing with Rick Castle will have to take a backseat right now. We discover our vic was working as a model, but had been taking some unusual modeling jobs of late; jobs that were beneath her. Her former employer implied she may have been looking to find herself a wealthy gentlemen friend.

As I pondered the clues and what we knew about our victim up to this point, Castle delighted in the fact that anyone can hire out models to attend a party, and then suggests we do just that. That's his take from the interview? I made it clear I had a case to solve to which he followed up with a snide remark about how we're usually more in sync. What the hell is that supposed to mean?

The boys locate the man who was seen fleeing the crime scene and we track him to his hotel room to confront him. Turns out he's a detective, Colin Hunt, from Scotland Yard and he knows our victim, Naomi Allen.

He said Naomi called him, panicked, and asked for his help, but by the time he reached her she was already dead. Our first meeting with Detective Inspector Hunt was…shall we say…less than conventional. We demanded he put his hands in the air, and well, they just don't make hotel towels like they used to, so when it fell to the ground, Castle wasn't too happy with the view we got. He even attempted to cover my eyes – that's got to count for something, I guess.

Colin claimed to have evidence, a message from Naomi before her death, but refused to share it with us until we agreed to let him work the case with us. Surprisingly, Gates actually allowed it. Hunt's record and superiors swayed her and she granted him permission to help us investigate. Castle was somewhat put out by how easily she agreed. He swears Gates hates him and has it in for him. He's probably right.

So now officially on the case, Colin hands over the key he found in the lining of Naomi's jacket and we attempt to figure out what it goes to. We find out Naomi crashed a record party last night and come up with a photo of her being punched by rapper Nicky J.

Castle leaves for his lunch date with the blonde and we interview our suspects. Nicky J.'s a piece of work, and there's a police record on her. Claims she caught Naomi talking to her man Biggie Slim at the party which was followed by an altercation. She admits to hitting Naomi, but swears she didn't kill her and she alibis out. Apparently she spent the night with Biggie Slim.

We bring him in too. He's a real class act, even gave me the creeps, and I can't imagine anyone finding him irresistible. Their alibis match though so we let them both go but check their stories further. This guy's a total slime-bag and Colin doesn't believe he's changed his ways as claimed. He thinks guys like Biggie Slim never change. Is he right? Maybe people don't change, maybe Rick's one of them. I'm not sure what to think anymore.

Lanie called us in to the morgue to review her findings so with Castle still on his _lunch date_ we head on over. Naomi was strangled to death and there's a partial print left on her neck. If we can nail a suspect, Lanie's confident she can use the print to tie them together. Colin was clearly affected by seeing Naomi's body on the table, and made an excuse to step out of the room. That's a feeling I can totally relate to. He's trying hard to hold it all together. He seems like a really nice guy.

Lanie comments on Colin's looks and accent. She's not wrong, he is easy on the eyes, but then she changes the subject immediately by asking where Castle is. I told her about his date, in the middle of the investigation, but she insists it's a passing phase. If you ask me, he looked pretty damn happy to see Jacinda and couldn't get out of there fast enough to be with her. Still Lanie presses me to tell him how I feel. She seems to think I'm wasting time. That I should find out either way if he's the right guy for me. I don't know what to do. I've got a case to solve.

We find the locker that goes with the key Colin gave us and discover a photo with a code written on the back. It's most likely a picture of our killer and we struggle to explain the meaning of the code. Things were just starting to look up when Castle returned glowing from his lunch date. I wanted to smack the smirk right off him. We identified the man in the photo as Nigel Wyndham, learned he works for the British Consulate and then pulled everything we could find on him. We needed to get his prints to tie him to the murder, but because he has diplomatic immunity this would be tricky.

Colin worked his magic and got us into an embassy party tonight where Wyndham, our suspect was to be a guest. The plan was to get the guys prints and then get the hell out of there. When I walked into the precinct in my dress I could feel Castle's eyes on me. I know this because it was the longest they've been on me in forever. I forced myself to look up and gauge his reaction. I had his attention. I'd say he looked…shocked, and maybe a little bit jealous, which was surprising since I wasn't a blonde. Did he really think I was going to sit around pining for him? Besides, this was work, not pleasure. We were working a case. I left on Colin's arm with my head held high.

After an interesting and informative dance with Colin and a bizarre one with our suspect we managed to get the prints we needed before getting kicked out of the party. Thankfully, my skills as a pick-pocket came in quite handy.

Back at the precinct, Ryan ran the prints we got three times before verifying that unfortunately, Wyndham's prints weren't a match for the killer. Once again we were fresh out of leads until Castle joined the party. Once he was done drooling over his dinner date and the lobster tails he'd brought back for the boys, he exclaimed he knew what the code meant. His date told him. Jacinda broke the code. Yes, the stewardess. It's a diplomatic pouch number for cargo that is transported through the airlines. Yeah, it was useful information, but look at how he got it. Castle shared private, confidential police information about a crime with his freaking date, a civilian. Furthermore, he didn't seem to understand my problem with this and blew it off.

Now he's working the case with her. Is he kidding me?

We tracked down the pouch, discovered it was around two-hundred pounds and scheduled to go to Uganda. One of the pouches was sitting at JFK as we spoke. Ten other pouches all the same size had previously been flown to Uganda as well. Nigel Wyndham in his position at the consulate is the one that signs for those pouches. Naomi's must have discovered what was going on and when Nigel found out what she knew, ordered her to be killed. The pieces were all coming together but there were still some missing.

The NYPD couldn't tamper with the diplomatic pouches, or in this case they were actually crates for fear of an International incident, but Colin, being a British national could. He went down there, infiltrated the security in place and found the crate. He discovered it filled with missiles just moments before security had come to take him into custody.

While Customs and Homeland Security took over possession of the missiles we still had to find Naomi's killer. Naomi's boyfriend was shot down in Uganda by a stinger missile and the investigation into his murder never led to any arrests which explained Naomi's involvement in all this. She'd been investigating on her own until it got her killed. But killed by whom? If it wasn't Wyndham there had to be a partner. And what about the fact that Naomi was seen crashing the Nikki J party, and hanging around Biggie Slim.

Once we figured out the connection between Biggie Slim and Wyndham we nailed both their asses. Wyndham had once lobbied on behalf of Biggie Slims when the SEC came down on him for one of his unscrupulous business ventures. Together they were smuggling missiles into Uganda. Wyndham signed for the pouches to be flown to Uganda, and Biggie Slim supplied the weapons through his cousin Drew who was a Staff Sergeant in the armory. It was all about the money. Lanie was able to match the partial print to Biggie Slim proving he killed Naomi and with substantial evidence, we went to the consulate and arrested Nigel Wyndham for international arms trafficking and for abetting in the murder of a British citizen. Case closed.

So, as I said earlier, today did not go as planned. I was saying goodbye to Colin when he invited me for a drink before heading out on his flight. Castle was still hanging around, probably making plans with his new girlfriend, but I was determined to stay and finally have that talk with him, so although flattered, I turned Colin down. But the talk with Castle was not to be and his parting words stung like a slap in the face.

He didn't have time to stick around and talk to me; he was off on another date with the blonde. I managed to blurt out my surprise that he's seeing so much of her and that she didn't seem like his type. He disagreed; said she's fun and uncomplicated and just what his life needs right now. Then he took off. I think I've lost him.

I could have stayed and licked my wounds, but I chose another road. I called Colin back and met him for that drink. I really didn't feel like being alone at that moment. It was…enlightening. Colin was a perfect gentlemen and he's very astute. He knew my heart was elsewhere and our meeting was strictly platonic. Said so himself. He'd picked up on the vibes between Castle and me and came right out and told me so. For someone who thinks she's good at hiding her true feelings, I really suck at it. Is there anyone who doesn't know how I feel about Castle besides Castle?

Colin asked me what was going on between us. He could see Castle was giving me the cold shoulder. He commented on the blonde and my reaction to them when she showed up for their lunch date. He also gave me a piece of advice… He said, yes, the job is our life, but there's got to be more to life than just a job, there has to be, and life's too short – make things right with Castle. Look what happened to Naomi. Learn from it. If I have something I need to say to Castle then I should go ahead and say it. Then he told me to call him if it doesn't work out, but I think he was joking.

He told me something else too. It was something Castle had said to him at the beginning of the case when I was in with Gates. Colin was telling Castle how out of character it was for Naomi to be turning down conventional modeling gigs and booking sleazy modeling jobs at private parties and Castle responded oddly by saying, _Yeah, well, sometimes it's the people we think we know best that we really don't know at all. _

He thinks Castle was talking about me, that the blonde will soon disappear, and that Castle wouldn't be so angry with me if he didn't care about me. It's possible Colin is Lanie with a blonde wig and British accent.

What the hell did I do to make Castle so damn angry with me? I honestly still don't know but I'm backtracking until I come up with something, and when I figure it out I'm going to make him talk to me and fix this mess. It may be too late for us to be a couple, but I'll be damned if I'm going to lose his friendship.

A/N: Love it? Hate it? Meh? Thanks for reading, whatever the outcome! Karen


	11. Chapter 11 UNDEAD AGAIN

Disclaimer: I don't own them, but we're very close, since they're constantly in my head and all…

Undead Again, Season 4, Episode 22

Chapter 11, Rick's journal entry

_May 4, 2012_

She's been in therapy for the past year. How the hell did I not know this?

Except for a few minor incidents right after Kate returned to work after the shooting, I'd been under the impression she was fine. Sure, I'd witnessed some perfectly understandable signs of post traumatic stress syndrome, but after that everything appeared to go back to normal.

She's without a doubt the strongest woman I've ever known. It never occurred to me she'd need more help than I could ever give her to overcome the trauma of her shooting, and she's achieved such superhero status in my eyes, I'd forgotten about her alter ego - the Queen of Denial. I should have known better. This whole time she's been seeing a therapist...so much for my self-proclaimed ability to notice small details.

I keep asking myself how could I have missed this, but to be honest, I already know the answer to that question – my head's been up my ass. The moment I overheard her admit she remembered everything from the day she'd been shot, something inside me snapped and I've only been focused on myself. All I knew was she'd lied to me – me, of all people.

I was blinded by hurt, enraged by her seemingly indifferent attitude towards my profession of love; I stopped seeing clearly. I was so damn angry with her, even to the point of telling mother this would be my last case. I truly thought I could just turn off my feelings for her.

Looking back I realize now how Kate tried to talk to me about my unusual behavior a few times too, but I blew her off. I'd lost faith in us; became completely self-absorbed, allowing my anger to fester and turn into something ugly. Mother was right; I didn't realize it until now, but I have been punishing Kate.

Thankfully, this case came along when it did. Between my problems with Kate and Alexis taking off for college I was nearing my breaking point. My little girl was leaving me, getting ready to leave the nest. I knew this day would come, I just never expected it to arrive.

My diabolical daughter had seemingly lost interest in our time-honored tradition of laser tag – only the same game we've been playing since she could barely walk, basically informing me she'd outgrown the game and me along with it, so I'd need to find someone else to play with. "Time to holster the laser guns and be adults" she'd said. A direct hit to the heart.

Of course I wouldn't find out until later she was secretly plotting her attack, laying a trap to catch me unaware at sometime in the near future. I pity the fool who attempts to mess with my kid on her path to glory. They don't stand a chance. I may be proud now, but all I felt at the time was a feeling of complete and utter devastation. What is it with the women in my life consistently trying to kill me?

When the call came in about a new murder I was less than thrilled. After the previous exchange with Alexis the last thing I wanted was to be around Beckett with a plastered fake smile on my face. As it turned out, it was exactly what Kate and I needed to get back on track again. I admit, at first I'd told my mother it was to be my last case with the detectives, but that's neither here nor there, the fact remains, not surprisingly I might add, that I owe my newfound level of clarity to none other than…here comes my favorite part… the Case of The Killer Zombie. No, really! Cool, huh?

To be fair, the case started off dull, and I was a little disappointed at the predictability of it all, but working with Beckett all these years should have taught me things could get interesting in the blink of an eye.

David Lock, currency trader, found dead lying in his employer's parking garage. The cause of death determined by Perlmutter, aka Dr. Death as I lovingly refer to him on occasion, was blunt force trauma to the head when it hit the pavement. I told Dr. Death, in so many words, his snarky comments would not be missed. This gave Beckett pause as she seemed to pick up on my cavalier attitude; however, I was in no mood at the time to care.

I was able to identify a circa 1870's hand-stitched lace cuff found by the body, most likely left by the assailant. My vast knowledge of this time period did not impress anyone in the least, and contrary to popular belief, with a little work, a comedy about the Civil War would too be funny, I don't care what anyone says.

Anyway, David's boss, Mike Matthews identified our victim and also spotted the abandoned car of David's co-worker Charlie Coleman. He also told us David and Charlie made no secret of their disdain for each other and were known to have been confrontational in the past. This marked Charlie as our first suspect.

The case seemed open and shut except for a few minor unexplained details; our victim had been uncharacteristically mauled on the arm by his assailant and then there was the mysterious lace cuff. Though Charlie's car was found at the scene of the crime he'd never shown up at the office that day so Beckett and I headed over to Charlie's apartment to question him.

It had the makings of an easy solve, not what I desired for my last case with Beckett. I'd wanted to go out with a bang, one for the books, you know. I wanted it to be something crazy and highly unusual. I was about to get my wish.

Charlie was at his apartment alright, but not expected, he'd chained himself to his radiator and was half out of his mind. He ranted and raved about not wanting us to be there when he "turned" and demanded we leave for our own safety, but not before he requested Beckett shoot him before we left. After she refused, even though he'd asked her nicely, we got him some water and waited for him to calm down.

Charlie claimed both he _and_ David had been attacked by…a zombie. No, I'm not kidding. Charlie admitted witnessing David's murder, said he himself managed to escape and said that he'd even made a 911 call claiming their attacker was a wild, flesh eating zombie, but no one would believe him. He sounded like a lunatic, and a potential murderer until he showed us his arm which held a similar flesh wound to the one found on David's body.

Beckett and I were both left wondering what the hell was going on. She thought he was nuts and I wasn't too far behind her, but I was also thrilled since things were finally becoming interesting. Beckett wasn't as entertained. I mean, who, besides Beckett, wouldn't love a good flesh eating zombie apocalypse taking place right here in New York City? We dragged Charlie downtown into custody, checked his story and listened to his frantic 911 tape.

Of course I thought he was delusional, but I also believed he truly believed a zombie was responsible for David's murder. When Ryan showed us the footage from the street cameras clearly showing a very zombie-like creature with a vintage lace cuff leaving the crime scene it was like my birthday and Christmas all rolled into one. I'll never forget the look on Kate, Epso's and Ryan's faces when our zombie killer appeared on the screen; classic. I knew then, I'd miss more than just the job if I left after this case.

With all that was happening at the precinct and a killer zombie on the loose, when I arrived home my defenses must have been down making me easy prey. I didn't suspect a thing at first when mother expressed more than a passing interest in the case. As she slithered back and away I realized something was amiss; my own mother in cahoots with the enemy. I studied the silence, aghast at my own naivety, while simultaneously delighted, for I had taught Alexis well and frankly, I should have known better.

Scanning the room aware I'd been had, awaiting my enemy's attack, I stood helpless as Alexis repelled down into the living room, completely caught me off guard and essentially scared the crap out of me. She was fully armed in her laser regalia and zapped me effortlessly with a single fatal blow of her laser gun, ultimately winning the game we've had going on for years by reaching the prized one thousand points. Her previous performance… merely a ploy to confuse and surprise a worthy adversary uh, me. I was so proud, I actually became a little teary eyed.

And just like that, things were looking up. Our laser game would continue on, my little girl still loved me…best two out of three, and maybe, just maybe all good things didn't have to come to an end. Now they'd simply be different; I could live with different. My internal debate began; the sound of chipping upon my own established walls (yes, I have a few) grew louder, and my resolve to quit working with Beckett weakened. I hadn't officially announced my departure yet. I could still change my mind. Would leaving be a mistake? I'd wait to see what tomorrow would bring.

The next day at the precinct we reviewed the case, but with no solid leads there was no reason to hold Charlie in lock-up further, so Ryan told him he was free to go. Unfortunately, Charlie refused to leave since he was still afraid of turning into a zombie as well as concerned about being sought after by the Killer Zombie we still hadn't apprehended. Here's where playtime began.

Both Beckett and Esposito proclaimed Charlie was nuts. Neither of them believes remotely in zombies or a zombie apocalypse. Ryan, however, looked worried. I love how he's able to keep an open mind amidst his world of facts, so it didn't seem right messing with him for an extended period of time. Esposito wasn't in the mood to play judging by the looks he was giving Ryan. This left me Beckett.

I hit her hard with the zombie angle, but she wasn't having any of it. There was a lot of eye-rolling. She barely tolerated my tale of our patient zero, and the zombie killer's attempt at building an army of the undead, and I'm fairly certain she didn't appreciate my remark on the more intelligent the victim, the more delicious the brain, and it wasn't easy keeping a straight face. The woman is always trying to ruin my stories with her logic. Is it really so wrong that I therefore would enjoy pushing her buttons? I think not.

We were actually getting along better. There was smiling, joking, lots of eye-rolling and I found my anger subsiding. It was like old times and I began dreading my decision to give it all up even though it still hurt to be around her. She'd never feel the same way about me as I did her, but could I live with that? My internal debate marched on.

We got a lead on David, our victim's whereabouts the night of the murder and tracked down the woman he'd been to see name of Greta Mastriani. Greta had been involved with David while at the same time engaged to one Tom Williams. She'd broken off the affair with David, but he'd apparently had a hard time letting go.

We questioned Tom, her fiancé who knew of the affair, but had taken Greta back. Tom had plenty of motive but we had nothing solid on him and his alibi checked out. Our investigation came to a standstill until a substance found on the victims shoes led us to an abandoned factory that produced the chemical.

Not surprisingly, abandoned factories, late at night…creepy. Add to that a hoard of walking undead zombies closing in on you and you have yourself one hell of a nightmare. Also, here's where believing in the possibility of all sorts of crazy shit, does not play in your favor. As they neared, I became convinced it would not end well, and the decision to stop working with Beckett would be made for me.

We were surrounded by at least fifty of them, glazed over eyes examining their prey. By the moaning, it was dinner time in the hood and they were hungry. I prepared to meet my maker. Beckett on the other hand with her low tolerance for BS, pulled out her gun, announced she was NYPD and demanded they stand down. Their leader instantly came to attention and their "game" came crashing to an immediate halt. They'd really had me there for a minute; the costumes, the makeup, the moaning. It was pretty amazing and I marveled over never hearing of this club before. You've got to love New York!

We hauled everyone down to the station in zombie wagons, where they were questioned as to the identity of our victim and the "zombie killer" in the photo from the crime scene. It was some time before we finally got a hit. The zombie in the picture was identified as Kyle Jennings, a member of their club and the hunt for him began.

Kyle's "dead" body was found in his apartment and his "lifeless remains" were brought to the morgue for an autopsy. Dr. Death, Beckett and I reviewed the body lying on the examination table. All I'm saying is the guy looked pretty dead to me...

Just to be on the safe side, I did question the merits of possibly awakening the undead, mostly to mess with Dr. Death, but despite my warning Perlmutter stabbed him with the needle anyway causing Kyle to jump up from the table…not so dead… and we stood in horror as he took off at warp speed, well, for a zombie anyway, with Kate hot on his trail. FYI: there really is no police code for zombie on the loose; they need to consider updating their list.

Once the dust settled and Kyle was captured he was sedated and sent off to the hospital to be examined. Beckett's main focus was on finding a human motive, but I argued we needed a zombie motive and continued torturing her about zombies rising from the dead. I could tell she didn't really appreciated my insights, but I couldn't stop myself; her reactions are just way too much fun.

When I admitted to Ryan I was only messing with Beckett he seemed relieved, then we shared an awkward moment as he told me how happy he was to see Kate and I finally getting along again. It caught me off guard since it never occurred to me either of the boys would have noticed the riff in our friendship. I really didn't know what to say to that.

At the hospital we questioned Kyle Jennings, our zombie, sans makeup, but he had amnesia and could remember nothing of what happened to him after he got to the zombie walk. He swore he didn't know the victim and hadn't killed anyone, but the evidence against him was mounting. There were abrasions on his hands, he had no alibi; all signs pointed to him, but I didn't peg him for our killer. There had to be more to the story; something wasn't adding up, but we had next to nothing to go on.

Outside Kyle's room Kate and I discussed Kyle's memory lapse and I argued when a life altering moment occurs, people remember. We both immediately knew I wasn't talking about the case anymore. She took defense, said it was a life altering event, and that he probably just wasn't ready to face it yet, but he would when he felt safe. One day we'll learn to use our words and stop talking in subtext, until then….

Just as we were getting to the good stuff and making some head-way Dr. Death interrupted to tell us drugs were found in Kyle's system. They'd found Scopolamine, a drug that makes you do whatever anyone tells you to do and then wipes your memory clean. We believed Kyle's insistence that he didn't do drugs which led us to wonder who slipped it to him. Who would of had motive to set him up? Much to my dismay, the rest of the conversation with Kate would have to wait as we needed to catch the real killer.

We re-interviewed Paul, one of the zombies who'd been high as a kite the night of the zombie walk, confirmed he'd been using Scopolamine and he admitted some of the walkers used the "zombie drug" to increase their zombie experience. When we showed him Tom William's picture Paul named him as their drug dealer.

Tom had motive, his jealousy of David and Greta's affair and a fear of losing Greta to David, so he'd somehow slipped the drug to Kyle then commanded he kill David while Tom waited in the library with a legitimate alibi. It was almost the perfect crime.

We brought Tom down to the station, tried to break him, but he was too smart to confess. We needed more proof to convict him and the smug bastard knew it. We were allowed to hold him for twenty-four hours so we tossed his ass in lock up until we could come up with something.

Greta held fast to the belief her fiancé would never commit such crimes, but I think deep down she knew; she had to suspect, still she refused to help us. We'd checked his financials…there was no other explanation for how he was able to purchase the enormous rock on her hand, and afford the upscale apartment they shared while he was attending law school.

I love this next part… he may be smart, but we're smarter.

Kate told Tom he was free to go since we had no proof, and also that Kyle was out on bail, madder than hell he'd been framed. Tom was terrified Kyle would come after him for setting him up and threatened Beckett with a lawsuit if we didn't protect him. She agreed only to let Esposito accompany him home, but after that he was on his own.

When Espo parked in the garage at Tom's building, I was waiting for them dressed head to toe in Kyle's zombie outfit including full make up job ready to pretend I was Zombie Kyle in a really bad mood. I got to fake knock-out Esposito, smash a few car windows (totally worth the bill), and scare a confession and the crap out of a sociopathic killer. Where else would I ever find a job this fun?

With the true killer behind bars, Kyle was released pending trial. The DA would most likely go easy on him since he aided us with the case, but the poor guy will probably never be the same. The fact is, even though he can't remember any of it, he killed someone. Before he left he told me to keep the costume, he'd never put it on again.

Alone at last…

I told Beckett I hoped Kyle would get the help he needed to be able to put this all behind him. That's when she confessed to her own therapy; said it's been helping her. She's almost where she wants to be; in a place where she can accept everything that happened that day. The way she said _everything,_ I nearly stopped breathing. She said her wall was coming down and she wanted me to be there when it did. I told her I like to be there too. It was all I could do to stop myself from grabbing her.

That's the moment I decided quitting was not an option, which coincidentally is the same moment I pulled my head out of my ass.

I've been acting like such an idiot. I chose to forget why I fell in love with her in the first place; our friendship, the _more than friends_ lingering touches, the glorious brightness of her smile when directed at me. How could I have ever thought I was in this relationship alone?

Kate survived a traumatizing experience; deserved time enough to heal and certainly more understanding from me, the man who'd professed to love her, but instead I let her down. I convinced myself she didn't feel the same way and never stopped to consider how long it might take for her to recover from the shooting. It's not that she was she indifferent to my _I love you_, she just needed time… and time she shall have.

Much to my delight, Alexis was up when I got home and my day got even better. She finally decided on Columbia - as long as I swore to give her the space she needed. I promised to try. She confessed to being worried over how everything was changing. I told her to follow her heart and she can't go wrong. I'm taking my own advice.

Detective Beckett…I'll see _you_ at the precinct tomorrow!


End file.
